


Harry Potter and the Return Home

by Laurasauras



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gay, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Romance, Slow Build, Teacher Harry, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2018-12-21 22:44:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 43,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11954241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurasauras/pseuds/Laurasauras
Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry returns to his school, this time as a professor. He teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts to students, some of whom used to be his peers. While struggling with the rest of the staff to rebuild Hogwarts (and the wizarding world) he develops a romance with Draco Malfoy. Will this lead to more conflict, or will it lend much needed balance?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic in years. I'm currently studying writing at uni and was pretty desperate to write something I didn't have to write. All the characters, previous events and such belong to JK Rowling, obviously. I'm a huge fan of the HP series, and wanted to write my version of the aftermath. I know I'm not alone in being unsatisfied with all the characters ending up with exactly who they 'should' have ended up with and I also wasn't super keen on imagining Harry as an Auror, so this is my version. And, because it's my version, I've put Harry and Draco together, just for fun.
> 
> I'm open to constructive criticism, so if you think I could have done something better, or notice a hole in my story, please let me know. I am trying to justify this as a writing exercise, after all!

Harry grieved for every life lost during the Battle of Hogwarts, and he was welcome in every family circle to join his grief with theirs. And even though he would like to consider his duties as The Chosen One over, he knew he wasn't that kind of man: the one who could cause devastation and then leave afterwards, knowing it had all served 'the greater good'.

Ron and Hermione were with the rest of the Weasleys. Harry and Hermione might have both been part of the family in some part before tonight, but Harry knew that Hermione joining them on a night like this meant that she was locking herself in with them. Harry was tempted to do the same, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Though he hugged Ginny, he found himself counting in his head to make sure that he hugged Mrs Weasley and Fleur for the same amount of time. He comforted her as much as everyone else, but he moved on to the next family before he could lead her on too much.

He might still love her, but he was people-weary. It was rare when it was easier to be The Chosen One than Harry, but tonight he clung to that mask.

When he felt he had done enough, Harry retreated to Dumbledore's grave. He might be able to talk with his portrait now, but what Harry really wanted was to be able to sit still and not be interrupted. Hagrid was already there, but he seemed to have fallen asleep, leaning against Grawp, whose gentle snores filled the area. Harry checked to make sure both were breathing, before sitting down on the dew soaked grass.

Dirt from the ground rose gracefully into the air and turned into a large glass bowl at Harry's feet. Harry turned and smiled, expecting to see Hermione, but it was Draco.

"I need to talk to you," he said.

Harry nodded, and Draco sat down and conjured green flames into the bowl.

There was silence as both of them waited for the other to talk. Harry didn't mind sitting quietly with Draco. All the fear and hatred he used to have for him had disappeared. Harry thought that his understanding killed things like fear and hatred.

"My mother told me what happened. So you know she saved you- I don't mean it like that- I don't know how to say this without sounding like I'm being demanding-"

"Draco, there isn't a soul in this castle that's at their best. We're all knackered. Just speak plainly."

"I just came up from the dungeons. All the Slytherins are locked up. I might have been able to free them, but I didn't want them to be attacked if someone saw them."

Harry frowned. He'd forgotten about them.

"Are they OK, did you get them food?"

"Kreacher - that house-elf that used to live with you sometimes - he had already organised it."

"Regulus would be proud," Harry said.

"Fine, sure, he went above and beyond, as per usual, but he shouldn't have had to!"

"You're right. Look, I know they're just kids, but their folks just were responsible for countless murders tonight and I can't guarantee that everyone is too tired to think of revenge."

"I'm not saying this right…" Draco put his hands behind his neck and seemed to curl into himself. He looked in pain. Harry took out his wand and pointed it at Hagrid's hut.

"Accio Firewhiskey,"

As suspected, Hagrid had at least one bottle to be summoned. As it whizzed through the air towards them, Harry remembered that he'd been using Draco's wand. He found it in his pocket and looked at it. Harry caught the Firewhiskey reflexly, without looking up. He uncorked it and took a swig before handing both the bottle and the wand to Draco. The liquid burned Harry's throat and warmed his belly and stopped the thoughts from racing through his head. He'd thought he was calm before the drink. Afterwards, he felt like he had settled down into his soul. Draco looked at the bottle, and seemed to be about to say something (maybe to object to sharing or refuse the drink altogether), but then he tipped the bottle to his lips and drank three huge swallows as if it were water. His eyes were slightly wet when he finished, and he gave a delicate cough. Harry had the awful realisation that someone could easily get addicted to the feelings that went with Firewhiskey. Draco handed it back to Harry and, partly just to do something, partly to get rid of his new anxiety, Harry drank again.

When Draco started speaking again, his voice had lost the tight stop-startedness from earlier and his posture was more relaxed. He looked like a normal person, not a proud Malfoy. Even when lounging in a huddle of fellow Slytherins, Harry could never remember seeing a hair out of place, or a crumpled shirt on Draco.

"Some of those kids were related to Death Eaters. In fact, one of my father's jobs was to talk to every graduating Slytherin and see if they would be interested in joining the Dark Lord. Both your side and mine, probably rightly so, assume that a Slytherin is more likely to be involved in all this than a Gryffindor.

"My question to you, and look, I don't expect you to know all the answers, but my question is this: will there be a Hogwarts next year and, if so, will Slytherin still be a house? Will those kids, some of them are still eleven, be allowed to go to school, or are they too much of a threat?"

"I thought you might be here about yourself and your family," Harry said. "I thought you might want your mother's saving my life to cancel out your Death Eater-iness,"

"If it can, that's great, I was a crap Death Eater so it would suck to be in Azkaban with the rest of them, but I was still one of them. And I won't fight you over my father, he's done too much. But he did it for me, and I hate to see him imprisoned again."

"No one is going to Azkaban," said Harry.

"I get we're bonding now, but you can't let my father be free and send the rest of them, he's probably only second to Lestrange-"

" _No one_  is going to Azkaban." Harry stared at Draco until their eyes met. "It's an evil place, and we can do better."

Draco didn't say anything, but didn't drop his gaze either. Tears ran down his face and still he stared determinedly at Harry.

"You can't take this back," he warned. "I won't let you promise this and then go back on it,"

Harry didn't know what to say to make himself clear. So he grabbed Draco's hand. "No one is going to Azkaban," he said soft but firm. Draco let his forehead fall on Harry's shoulder and cried. Harry thought he knew why. Both Hagrid and Sirius had been frank about almost every subject, except their time in Azkaban. It was bad knowing how the dementors affected himself, but for Harry to see those strong men - afraid as he had seen them afraid of nothing else. Lucius Malfoy was a slimy, evil man, but Draco was his son, and no son wanted to see their dad broken like that.

Harry waited for Draco to recover. He felt like he had all the patience and the wisdom in the world tonight. He was grateful that Draco had caught him now, while the future was still so liquid. In a week, someone else might have made these decisions and cut Harry out. Harry was  _not_  going to be Minister for Magic. But he deserved to have a say on some things.

Draco had stopped crying audibly, but Harry was happy to lend him his shoulder for as long as it took for him to gather himself properly. He drank while he waited, mostly for something to do.

Hagrid woke up during this time and Harry tossed him the bottle. If he was surprised to see Draco leaning on Harry, he didn't show it. He looked too tired for surprise. Harry refilled the bottle with a charm after Hagrid took his giant sized sip. Tomorrow they would all have to get by with or without it, but for tonight it was enough to just sit.

Draco looked embarrassed when he sat up straight and saw Hagrid was awake. But then Hagrid passed him the bottle.

"Yer a good kid, Malfoy," he said. "Dumbledore told me so, an' he hasn't been wrong yet."

"Who's going to be Headmaster now?" asked Draco.

"McGonagall. For now. She can choose someone to replace her, I'm sure she's had enough of the job, but she'll do it at least for next year." That at least was an easy decision for Harry to make.

Draco nodded.

"Will Slytherins be invited back?"

"The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters," said Harry. "Snape was both. So was Regulus Black. I think you are too. And then there are plenty of people, like Umbridge who wasn't a Death Eater but who was worse than most, and Wormtail, who was a Gryffindor but who betrayed the Order and my parents to become a Death Eater. The Sorting Hat is good at some things, but not at telling someone how their whole life will turn out. And Voldemort burned it anyway. So I'll talk with the heads of houses to see what they think about keeping houses at all, but regardless, those who were sorted into Slytherin won't be excluded just for their house."

"Can I come back?"

"In my books, yes. But I'm not the Ministry. Ultimately, they have to decide how to deal with all of us."

Harry addressed Hagrid for the next bit.

"I'm not just the hero who walks away after the fight is over, but I'm not taking power for myself either. I have some contributions I want to make - like getting rid of Azkaban - but I don't want to make all the decisions."

"Yer Dumbledore's man," Hagrid said. "It's not the easy path, but it's a good one." With that, he heaved himself up and went back to his hut.

"Dumbledore had floo powder in his office. Let's take that to the dungeons and get those kids home. Slughorn will help." Harry stood up and was surprised to find himself unsteady. He held out his hand for Draco, but he got up with all his usual grace even though he had drunk more than Harry.

"You need to learn to handle your liquor, Potter," he smirked. Harry grinned back. Draco gripped Harry in a strong hug. Harry patted him awkwardly on the back. "Thanks for hearing me out," he said.


	2. Chapter 2

The summer holidays had always been dull for Harry, but this year he had so much on that looking back he wasn't sure how he got through it all. He reclaimed Grimmauld Place, and with help from Kreacher, Dobby, and random visitors he managed to get it back in good condition, much as he had helped to do before his fifth year. Kingsley Shacklebolt became Minister for Magic, and while he was happy to listen to Harry's ideas, and take them on board, he didn't demand Harry as a mascot as Fudge had. Though, by insisting Harry meet him at the Ministry on a semi-regular basis, Harry felt that he had achieved the same thing.

But the biggest thing was the realisation that Harry would have to decide what to do with his life. Hermione was going back to Hogwarts, there was no way she wasn't completing her NEWTs. Ron had turned down several job offers to work with George at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, and Harry was pleased to see that he was holding his own there despite the huge shoes he was filling. Apparently it wasn't just Ginny who had secretly hidden her practical joke abilities.

Harry considered becoming an auror. They would have him now, regardless of NEWTs, and while he knew that tracking down Voldemort sympathisers was a necessary and worthy thing to do, he didn't want to live that life, at least not yet. He also wanted to be a good godfather to Teddy, who was currently living with Bill and Fleur. Harry visited every day, but neither he nor Ginny were ready to start a family, so it seemed better to supervise Teddy's wellbeing, rather than take on that responsibility when it might hurt more.

Ginny was considering going back to Hogwarts, but that last year had been more tough on her than she liked to admit, and the castle had become somewhat sullied for her. She was spending more and more of her time on her broom, and Harry thought she might see if she could fly professionally. Harry sometimes fantisised about following her; he missed playing Quidditch together.

But one day, about half way through the holidays, McGonagall came to Grimmauld Place and put in an incredible day of cleaning. She was able to detect curses on several items that Harry hadn't noticed and had a real knack with household charms. Kreacher pronounced himself in love with her after she managed to repair the family tapestry that had been cursed into pieces by some Death Eater or another.

But all day, Harry had the suspicion that she was there for a bigger purpose than helping him get his home in order. And so, when they sat down for dinner (Kreacher had gone all out with roast lamb and all the trimmings with treacle tart for dessert) Harry was unsurprised when she started talking business.

"I'll get straight to the point, Potter. I need a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. I haven't seen anything in the paper, so I assume you haven't decided one way or the other what you're doing this year, and I want you to come back to Hogwarts."

"Professor, I didn't even finish school, I can't be a professor," Harry protested.

"I would agree, if you hadn't just ended the biggest wizarding war we've ever had, if you hadn't already proved yourself as a capable teacher, if I had any other options or if I thought the position commanded more respect. You know we hired Gilderoy Lockhart one year. You can't be worse than him."

McGonagall tucked into her treacle tart and let Harry think. He had loved teaching Dumbledore's army. He would be able to go home. As much as Kreacher looked after him here, Hogwarts was Harry's home in a way that not many had understood. And the fact that he would be the first teacher to have the option of staying for more than a year since Voldemort had cursed the position had a certain poetry to it.

"Am I not too famous?" asked Harry. "I can't walk down the street these days, that's not the kind of person you want teaching, is it?"

"Dumbledore couldn't either. And to speak frankly, kids don't give a damn who you are. They're still going to pass notes and skive your class and lie about their homework. It might be nice to be treated like everyone else. To eventually be known as Professor Potter, not Harry Potter."

"Okay, I'll do it." Having made the decision, Harry felt the weight of indecision he had been carrying around suddenly fall off his shoulders.

"You'll have to take your NEWTs in the other subjects though," said McGonagall. "We're happy to give you an honorary Defence NEWT, and allow you to teach on the assumption that you are working towards a full qualification."

"I can't take classes with the students I'm trying to teach!"

"You'll find it a lot easier now than if you were older. And if you wish, I'm sure the other professors would be happy to tutor you privately. I'd take advantage of Miss Granger too."

Harry decided to find it funny rather than insulting that McGonagall had snuck that condition in after he had already agreed. McGonagall raised her eyebrows at his smile, but there was something in the way she pursed her lips that made Harry think that she was holding her happiness back.

And so, the second half of the holidays passed even quicker than the first. On top of everything he was doing before, he was now struggling to plan lessons for seven different levels of students. Hermione was more help than he could have expected. She still had her notes from every year, and had paid attention during those dull first classes where the professor just described what they would teach, rather than just getting on and teaching them.

A week before term went back for the students, Harry moved into Hogwarts. He had seen the office that was now his home under many other professors, and was glad not to see any mementos of them left inside. Neville was going to be teaching Herbology under the supervision of Professor Sprout, and so he was happy to show Harry how to access the bedroom behind the office. Harry couldn't remember ever telling Neville that Hogwarts was his home, but Neville knew. The office itself was fairly non-descript, with plenty of room for Harry to put his new books and eventually gadgets and creatures like the two professors he most hoped to emulate, but his bedroom was as if someone had taken the Gryffindor dormitory and tweaked it into a more man-appropriate place. It was round and homey, with a fireplace, copies of the tapestries that hung on the walls and a four-poster bed, though this one was a double. Even the cupboard was practically identical to the one that Harry had hung his robes in as a student.

"You can change whatever you want," Neville said, and Harry was reminded of the timid Neville he had shared a room with, not this Neville who had become confident and fierce.

"It's perfect, Neville, it's home."

After that, it was as if some barrier had come down between them and they were able to talk properly. Neville filled Harry in on what he could expect from students who had been unfortunate enough to go to Hogwarts last year, and who had suffered the most. Harry told Neville what it had meant when he had killed Voldemort's snake. The two of them rehearsed speaking as if to a class with each other and went over their lesson plans. Harry pretended to be so disruptive in Greenhouse Two that Neville told him he had detention and it took them both a moment to realise how ridiculous that was. They moved a couch and two armchairs up to Harry's office by hand because neither of them could think of a way to teleport them there, and were caught halfway up by Professor Flitwick who hit them around the knees until they levitated them with magic.

They both worked with other teachers a lot, especially Hagrid who was the newest to teaching apart from themselves, and by the day the students were due to arrive, Harry felt like he would actually be able to do a good job.

He had prepared himself for McGonagall's speech. He had never been to an important feast at Hogwarts that Dumbledore hadn't spoke at. But even though her style was so different to Dumbledore's, McGonagall managed to be kind, welcoming and firm.

After consulting with magical schools around the world, McGonagall had decided to keep all four houses in much the same state as they had been. Without the sorting hat, she had enchanted a lion, snake, eagle and badger to choose each child. The lion tended towards brave, the snake to cunning, the eagle to academic and the badger to kind, but it was more random than it had been under the hat, and instead of a song preaching the differences between the houses, each of the house ghosts spoke about their favourite members of their house. Harry was grateful that all the wizards mentioned had been dead for hundreds of years; he had been worried that Nick might talk about him and make it even harder to teach the students.

The feast ended and the staff went to the staff room, as had become their habit, to share wine and debrief. Everyone was pleased by how the sorting had gone, and praised the ghosts for their contribution. By the time Harry got to his office, it was past midnight and he was pleasantly warm and full.

When he got there, it wasn't empty.

Draco Malfoy was leaning, his back ramrod straight, against Harry's desk. Harry removed his hand from his pocket where it had been wrapped around his wand. He wasn't quite sure where the two of them stood, but he knew he wasn't about to curse a student, especially when term hadn't even technically started.

"Take a seat," Harry said, and he slumped into one of the armchairs himself. Draco stayed against the desk.

"What's on your mind, Draco?"

Draco had refused to relax even a little, and he looked Harry right in the eyes as he spoke, seeming defensive.

"I don't feel safe downstairs."

"Has someone said something?" Harry thought back to the students that he and Neville had decided to keep an eye on. Some of the returning students had seemed a little too willing to go along with the Carrows. It was one thing to accept anyone who wanted to come back to Hogwarts, but quite another to share a dormitory with someone who might curse you in your sleep. McGonagall had put several defensive spells in all sleeping quarters, in addition to the ones that were already there, but that wasn't common knowledge.

"No one has said anything. I can hold my own. It's just-. Look, I slept in the same house as Fenrir Greyback, I wake at the smallest noise. I was on the verge of throwing up just sitting on my bed while everyone else was in the common room."

Draco put his head in his hands. "I don't know why I came here," he said.

Harry went to his potion cabinet and took out a calming draught.

"I used to see what Voldemort was doing when I slept. Now I have nightmares replaying the things I saw him do. I get it."

Draco nodded.

"I can't take that," he said. "I've already had some,"

"And you're still tense?" said Harry incredulously. "I have a mouthful of this and I'm dead to the world,"

"Guess I'm tougher than you," said Draco, with a hint of his old smirk.

"Do you want to sleep on my couch? I'll be in the next room, but we can put alarms on all the doors so you'll be woken if someone tries to come in."

"I thought you might let me in on how to get to the Shrieking Shack," said Draco.

"You're staying in the castle. I'm not going to start my teaching career by breaking all the rules," Harry said firmly.

Draco didn't move from the desk so Harry went to his room and fetched extra blankets and pillows from the linen cupboard and dumped them on the couch.

"I don't care if you stay here, go to the hospital wing or go back to your dormitory, I'll vouch for you if you get in trouble for leaving your common room after curfew so long as you stay in the castle. Go see if the Room of Requirement still works, if that's where you want to be. I'm going to bed."

Harry marched to his room and closed the door. He wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing, but he felt like it was his job to help Draco accept more responsibility.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Harry woke up and Draco was nowhere to be seen. All the bedding had been folded neatly on the couch, but it wasn't where Harry had put it last night, so he supposed it had been used. Harry thought it was unusual for someone who had always had a house elf to be so neat, but looking back, he had never seen Draco in the slightest state of disarray.

He decided to put it out of his mind and get on with his day. His first class was immediately after breakfast, so he set up the classroom before he headed to the Great Hall in case some eager students got in before him.

His first class was with the first years, and he was grateful to have a blank slate. Some came from wizarding families and so had an idea of what had happened last year, but quite a few were from muggle families as well. Harry wasn't any more intimidating than any of the other professors. He told them what they would be studying and impressed them all by conjuring his patronus. The students didn't end up even touching their wands, but Harry hoped they had a good time. He only had a five minute break between classes but he was glad that he didn't have longer; he had been dreading the seventh year students and he didn't want to sit in his nerves.

The class was a mixture of kids who had had a fractured experience as seventh years last year and wanted to repeat and those who were in sixth year last year and wanted to progress. This meant half of them used to be in class with Harry. Harry felt comforted to see Hermione sitting in the front row, as well as quite a few he had taught in Dumbledore's Army. Draco was sitting in the back row, a world apart from the Malfoy that Harry remembered. That Malfoy had been gleefully surrounded by admiring Slytherins, this one seemed to fade into the background.

Harry sat on his desk at the front of the class. He could see that look on many faces that he had seen at the Hog's Head when Hermione was convincing them to join DA. They weren't sure they wanted to be taught by him.

"I'm going to focus this year on helping you pass your NEWTS. I know that none of you have had a consistent Defense teacher, I know many of you have had more practical experience than many wizards see in a lifetime. But we're going to try and move on. We're not forgetting. We're just going to try and put that to one side."

Harry stood up and moved to the chalkboard. He pointed his wand as Flitwick had taught him and the words Theory and Practical appeared in Harry's handwriting.

"There are two components to your NEWTS-" Harry started.

"How can you teach them with us?" came a voice and Harry wasn't surprised to see Ernie, a Hufflepuff who he'd butted heads with before with his hand pointing at Draco. "How do you know he won't use what you teach us against you?"

"We're using defensive magic, Macmillon," spat Draco.

"Are you objecting to Draco, Slytherins or some other group?" asked Harry cooly.

"Slytherins seem a good place to start! Why do we even still have them? Old Snake-Face wanted all muggle-borns dead and it seems to me you have to agree to get in his house."

"For homework, Ernie, you will be writing an essay on the contributions of Salazar Slytherin to the magical world."

Harry stood as straight as he could and took the time to look each student in the eyes, holding his gaze on any student that avoided him. He might not have enjoyed Snape's classes, but Snape always knew how to control a class, and this was something he had taught Harry indirectly: the power of silence. The class waited, and it seemed they all breathed in and exhaled as one.

"Each one of you is here by choice. After what you have been through, no one is going to force you to finish school. But you came back. Every person who was involved at the Battle has been interrogated by the Ministry. I was there for some of them. Shacklebolt did not go easy on those who chose the wrong side. Does anyone know what house our Minister was sorted into?" Harry waited and no one answered. "Does anyone think it matters remotely what the sorting hat thought of him when he was 11?"

Harry took a deep breath. He remembered sitting in the seat two along from where Ernie was sitting while Umbridge lectured him about the Minister knowing best, and then punishing him for speaking up. Only she and Voldemort had scarred him permanently. But those situations were completely different. He forced the image of himself as a cruel, inflexible teacher out of his head.

"I won't punish anyone for speaking their mind or asking questions. But there is an appropriate way to do that, and I will never again tolerate a student attacking - verbally or physically - anyone else. Ernie, I think you have valid concerns, but you attacked one of my students just now. Please don't do it again."

Harry looked to Hermione and she gave him a subtle thumbs up. She raised her hand and he nodded.

"What would you say an appropriate way is, sir?" Harry raised his eyebrow slightly at the 'sir', but was grateful for the guidance.

"I think it's always easier to talk about these things one-on-one first. My office is always open. And I will always ask you for your take before I explain my side, so I encourage you to know your mind before you speak it - for example, if Ernie had said this in my office, I would ask him what kind of Hogwarts he envisioned. Then I'd explain that the staff has spent a lot of time on this, and have come to our decision carefully. I also would remind him, as Draco did, that this is Defense Against the Dark Arts, not Dark Arts as it was last year. My first priority is that you all feel safe. And words don't count much when it comes to feeling safe. If Ernie, or anyone else, feels unsafe working with a particular student, due to personal friction or something else, I won't partner those two together. But I hope, seeing as we have just narrowly avoided a world in which people would have been judged by their parents, that we would now work hard to make sure we would not judge those left behind based on their parents."

Ernie was looking more thoughtful than defiant, so Harry was able to move on to the topic of what would be covered in preparation for the NEWTs, and by the end of class he hoped that some of the tension had lessened. Draco was the last to leave the room, and he paused at the door as if to say something, but he left without a word.

Harry thought several times during that week that it might have been the hardest week he had ever had at Hogwarts. He was relieved when the weekend came to go to his pre-arranged lunch with Hagrid. Neville was already there, having convinced Hagrid to let him help cook, and Harry was surprised and happy to see that Ron had come up for the weekend.

Hermione was late, having spent the morning in the library, and when she came she brought a cake that Dobby had given her.

She squealed with delight to see Ron, and Harry and Hagrid awkwardly left them on the front step under the pretense of looking at Hagrid's pumpkins.

They spent the afternoon catching up on what had been a difficult week for all of them.

"Harry's going to get me an Outstanding in Defense," Hermione told Ron happily. "It's like being back in Dumbledore's Army, I don't think I've ever done so well in Defense as when he teaches it,"

"Hear that Harry, you're even better than Lockhart!" said Ron.

"Hermione's the only student that treats me like normal," he replied. "Everyone else is either afraid of me, in awe of me or hates me,"

"So, pretty normal for Hogwarts," said Ron.

They all laughed but Harry had to grimace, picturing a long, isolated life ahead of him.

"George can't stand sharing his apartment, I need to find somewhere else to live," said Ron.

"Stay at Grimmauld place if you want," Harry offered. "Kreacher's at Hogwarts but I'm sure he'd be happy to go back if you wanted."

"I might do, it'd be good to stay in London. When are your Hogsmeade weekends, I'll book a room while I'm here,"

They talked about Professor Sprout struggling to let Neville do anything on his own and Hagrid's uneasy peace with the centaurs. Ron told them that Ginny had caught the eye of the Holyhead Harpies and was now a substitute chaser for them. Harry pretended he already knew, to avoid the topic of their relationship. The unhappy truth was that neither of them were making it a priority or had even discussed whether their occasional owls constituted a relationship. They hadn't spent more than a few moments alone together since Harry's fifth year, when he technically broke up with her. He suddenly had a lot more sympathy for the way Ron had avoided dealing with Lavender.

They ended up asking Kreacher to bring them dinner and stayed into the night, only leaving when Hermione insisted she needed to do an hour of studying before bed or she would fail all her NEWTs. On the way back to the castle, after Neville had turned off to his office, Hermione turned to Harry and asked, "do you know what's going on with Malfoy? He didn't go to the Slytherin common room after the Prefect meeting, he said he was going to the hospital wing."

Every night, Harry left the bedding on the couch and every morning it was still there, but he knew Draco had used it. He had adjusted his protective wards to allow Draco free movement, but no matter how quietly he opened the door, Harry woke up in the next room. Draco wasn't the only one who had trained himself to respond to the lightest noise. It had disturbed him the first couple nights, but now he was falling back into rhythm with having a roommate, and it felt less lonely than sleeping alone at Grimmauld Place had.

"He's having a rough time, but he's working through it." Harry said.

Hermione looked at him.

"I'm not trying to be secretive, I just wouldn't know about it if I wasn't a teacher," Harry said.

"Do you think he needs a friend?" Hermione asked softly. "He doesn't sit with anyone anymore. He just looks so sad,"

"You're too good for your own good," Harry told her. "I think he might, but I don't know if he's in a good enough place to be able to say so. And he's proud. He won't take pity friendship."

Hermione thought that over in silence as they climbed the steps to the Gryffindor tower. Harry would have to walk down them again to get to his office, but if Hermione got caught on her own after curfew she'd be in detention.

"I'll think about it," she told him. They paused at the portrait of the Fat Lady. "I miss having you and Ron every night," Hermione said.

"It's not the same," Harry agreed.


	4. Chapter 4

Christmas snuck up on them the way it always did at Hogwarts. On the last Friday of classes, Harry was glad to have younger kids so that he could play games with them. It was heartening, during the last class which was a double period with third years, to see the kids who had been so solemn for the past few months really laugh as they all tried to think of the most ridiculous curses for Harry to demonstrate on a willing Neville. At the end he handed them all out chocolate frogs and reminded them not to tell McGonagall he hadn't set them homework over the holidays.

"Though smart third years use the break to make notes for their exams!" he called over their heads as they rushed out of the room.

Though all the teachers had worked hard to make Hogwarts extra inviting, very few staff or students chose to stay for Christmas. Harry had been tempted to spend Christmas with the Weasley's but had told them he had too much work to do. He would apparate there for Christmas dinner, but the rest he needed to be at Hogwarts for.

Ron had seemed to understand a bit too well when he said this, and Harry gathered he had been talking to Ginny. They still hadn't defined their relationship, though the tone of their letters was more friendly than romantic. Neither seemed to notice if they forgot to write for a while. They had their own lives happening around them. It was hard to think too much about someone so far away. Sometimes, Harry couldn't picture her face. He knew she had red hair, but couldn't quite grasp the shade of her eyes, or the expressions she made. It was easier to picture the photos he remembered of her than the actual living Ginny.

Hermione had not been having that problem with Ron. Though she was determined to break some kind of record with her NEWTs, every second she wasn't studying she was writing to Ron, or thinking of a surprise for him, or talking about him. Harry looked at her and saw how he wished he could be. Really, he just needed to make a decision one way or the other, but Hermione's passion looked nice.

Harry was surprised when he and Neville got to his office after that last period and found Malfoy waiting there. Neville's hands were still green and Harry thought he had a potion that would work even though Neville's body seemed to have stopped responding to his anti-jinxes.

Draco's ears went a little pink, but he stayed where he was.

"I wanted to talk about the holiday homework," he said as way of explanation.

"That's fine, Draco, feel free to take a seat," Harry said, pretending to be unconcerned. He didn't have the potion he wanted, but it was a simple one, so even though he was tempted to send Neville to Madame Pomfrey or Slughorn, he got his kit out and started brewing. Draco looked like he would like to continue leaning against the desk as he had previously, but with Neville there he sat stiffly on one of the armchairs.

"Are you going to your gran's for the holidays?" said Harry as he counted stirs in his head.

"I already told you I was," said Neville.

"No, I mean for the full two weeks," said Harry. He couldn't think of anything to say that he was comfortable talking about in front of Neville and Draco.

"I'll probably drop in on Luna at some point," he said. Again, Harry couldn't think of anything appropriate to say. If Draco hadn't been there he might have made a joke about Luna, or asked Neville if there was a reason he was seeing her specially, but ...

Harry finished the potion and poured half into a mug for Neville and stoppered the rest for next time. Neville's hands immediately returned to normal.

"Thanks, Harry," he said.

"Well, I was the one who did it to you," Harry joked weakly.

"See you at the feast?"

Harry nodded and Neville left the room, giving Harry a grimace over the back of Draco's head that said all too clearly that he had felt the awkwardness too.

Harry waited until he heard the classroom door close downstairs before he sat across from Draco.

"I've been sleeping on your couch all term," Draco blurted.

"I know," said Harry.

"I don't want to go home for the holidays," said Draco.

"If you want, I can get a futon or something," Harry said. When Draco looked at him like he had sprouted an extra head, Harry realised futons hadn't made it to the wizarding world. "It's a couch that converts into a bed. It would be more comfortable in the long term."

"You're okay with this being more long term?" said Draco. "I thought you wanted me to adjust back into normal life."

"I do," said Harry. "I just don't think that happens overnight."

Draco's shoulders slumped. "Do you have anything to drink?" he asked.

"Butterbeer, pumpkin juice, wine…" said Harry.

"Wine," said Draco, somewhat meekly. Harry filled two goblets and placed them on the coffee table. Draco took his and drank immediately.

"This hasn't come from Madam Rosmerta," Draco said.

"I'm afraid it's muggle wine," said Harry. He watched Draco for a reaction.

"They had to be able to do something right," he said with a thin smile.

"Draco… I'm here if you want to talk. I know we don't have the best history, but I'm probably the only one who will understand what you've gone through and be okay with it,"

Draco tapped his heel aggressively on the floor, working through his thoughts.

"I feel like my father must have when he came home from Azkaban. I jump at everything, I can't look people in the eye, I'm trying to keep myself so busy I don't have time to think but I can't be busy all the time. I've tried to sleep in the library, in the hospital wing, in a secret passageway, but I feel like I'm being watched everywhere but here."

"Draco, you're allowed to sleep here," Harry said. "You're allowed to feel anxious, don't get into that trap of feeling anxious about feeling anxious,"

"My father did that. He's still crippled by it. How do I live in this world where he is so cowed?"

"Draco, you're not your father. You're-"

"Oh, what do you know, Potter?" Malfoy finished his goblet and slammed it on the table. "Your father never lived long enough to be anything other than perfect."

Harry felt obliged to correct him for one absurd moment, but shook himself.

"Draco, calm down. Get to the point."

"I don't have a point!" Draco grabbed his hair violently, and when he let go several blond strands came out with his hands. He noticed and moaned, "I'm falling apart."

Harry moved without speaking, pinning Draco's arms to his side in a rough hug. After the battle, in the days before they left Hogwarts, Harry had slept in the Great Hall surrounded by people and their weight and sound didn't make for a continuous sleep, but it was better than the nightmares. It was comforting, knowing that he didn't have to be on alert, ready to pack up and leave at a moment's notice.

Draco was tense, so tense, and he gritted his teeth against a silent groan. After a moment, he let his head fall onto Harry's neck and his body loosened. Harry didn't know what had made him hug Draco, or what made him cling on once Draco's body relaxed.

After a few moments, Harry became hyper aware that once he let go he would have to explain why he had hugged him in the first place. After a few moments more, Draco's face turned slightly so that his nose was pressed against Harry's face. Harry froze, not sure what was happening. Draco slowly touched his lips to Harry's neck. Harry slowly drew back and let go.

"Did you not -" said Draco.

Harry shook his head awkwardly.

"I don't think I've touched anyone since the Battle. I hugged my parents and I leaned on you and I haven't come close to anyone since." said Draco.

Harry moved back onto the couch where he had been before and stared at his shoes.

"I don't think I've talked this much in a while either,"

Harry shook his head.

"It's weird to actually take a step back in class. Quietly successful suits me. I think it's a new stage in Malfoy greatness."

Harry shifted in his seat. Draco fidgeted with his hands, and kept babbling despite himself.

"I've been meaning to ask you some questions about NEWTs, I'm struggling with my patronus-"

Harry stood up and Draco finally stopped talking. Draco stood up too.

"It hurts, to go so long feeling like no one wants to touch you or look at you. Thanks."

The two of them were trapped close together by the furniture.

"I can sleep somewhere else-"

"Don't be stupid," Harry said. He coughed. "You sleep here, I… Look would you believe me if I said that unexpected things don't happen that often to me?"

Draco snorted and the two of them laughed properly, until both of them were sitting again. Harry on the couch, Draco in the armchair.

"I actually think the last time I was totally floored by something was when Hagrid told me I was a wizard. And to be honest, I look back on it now and I think I was mental not to know something was up. The muggles I lived with told me what they expected from a normal kid and then I'd go and jump from the ground to the top of the school building and I told them the wind must have caught me."

"I was a nightmare when I got my magic," said Draco. "They had to stop having people over because I would stick all the furniture in the dining room to the roof or explode things just to see if I could,"

"But Hagrid told me about Voldemort then, and Hermione always told me what I was getting into before I got myself too deep. She's good at slowing me down. I was preparing for the Battle for years before it happened."

"Was dying and coming back to life part of the plan?"

"Well, dying was. And then… It sounds too insane to be real, but I was out of it for a while, dealing with the fact that I'd meant to die and I had the option to go back, so when I went back it wasn't like I was thinking on the fly…"

Draco wrinkled his brow like he was puzzling that out, but nodded for Harry to continue.

"Anyway, I'm not used to thinking about things on the spot. Improvising with spells and flying, maybe, but… And there's a lot to unpack here…"

The two of them seemed to be taking turns in looking at each other, so they never quite had to meet eyes.

"I really want us to keep talking. You getting here late and leaving early and never seeing me is a bit ridiculous, it kind of defeats the point of you getting used to being near someone. So, let's have another chat tonight, after the feast."

Harry opened the hidden door to his bathroom and washed his face.

"I'm going now…" Harry said, a bit awkwardly.

Draco smirked and gestured ironically towards the door. He looked the most relaxed Harry had seen him all year. There's something wrong with him if he's comforted by me being uncomfortable, Harry thought, but he left without saying anything.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry thought about walking through the grounds to process his thoughts, but instead he went to the Gryffindor common room. Hermione had always been able to explain how other people felt.

Outside the Portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry felt a bit awkward. He knew the password, (now that he was staff he knew most passwords) but he didn't want to disturb the relaxing students. McGonagall only entered their common room when something awful had happened. He was dithering about what to do, when Hermione herself came bustling out with her arms full of books.

"Harry!" she said. "What's going on?"

"I was looking for you - can I take some of those?"

Hermione passed half her pile over and they started walking downstairs.

"It's end of term so I have to return some of these," said Hermione. "What's going on?"

Harry looked around, but their corridor was deserted. "I want to talk to you about Draco," he said.

"Shall we dump these and go for a walk?"

Harry relaxed. He knew too many of the secret passageways around Hogwarts to be totally confident speaking freely inside the castle.

"Draco's been sleeping in my office," Harry said once they were outside.

"I thought he must be in someone's office," said Hermione. "I couldn't imagine him in the Slytherin common room."

"What do you know?" asked Harry, a bit desperately.

"Well, I see him in the library a lot. He doesn't speak to anyone by choice. When we got out of your class last week, the corridor was packed and he looked like it hurt him to be brushed by other students. Madame Pomfrey won't give him anything to calm down anymore because she thinks he's selling it."

"He wouldn't...:"

"He might. The Ministry seized a lot of his family's estate. I think he was always going to work, he's too smart not to, but now he has no choice. It's not like anyone would take him in. Well, apart from you, apparently." Hermione looked at him quizzically. "Why your office?"

"He asked," Harry said simply. "Or came to me, anyway. He wanted me to set him up in the Shrieking Shack."

"Snape's gone, he never liked Slughorn, you've got that whole 'moral fibre' thing going on. Any of the other teachers might have told him to just deal with it,"

"What's with wizards and not caring about mental health? He's probably shellshocked worse than half the muggles after their wars,"

"The mind is tricky," said Hermione, gently. "You can't spell your way out of it."

They walked in silence for a bit.

"Do you remember when I was trying to think of a way I could be his friend?" asked Hermione. "I never thought of a way around his hatred for my parents. I think he could get over that, but I couldn't think of a reason why I would, except that I really do pity him right now. You could be his friend. You might be able to help him."

Harry considered this. He felt too uncomfortable mentioning that Draco might want something more than friendship, but Hermione had a special gift for being able to give great advice without needing to know the whole picture. Harry suspected this was because she wasn't a gossip, and didn't feel the need to make drama. She noticed things without thinking they were particularly noteworthy.

"Can I be his friend and his teacher?" Harry asked. Hermione gave him a wry smile.

"What am I if not your student and your friend?"

"I didn't mean it like that. We've always been friends and you're the picture of professionalism. I don't want anyone saying I'm favouriting him, or that he is corrupting me. I feel like I need to keep it a secret, and that usually means that I'm doing something wrong." Hermione digested that. They found a spot near the lake to sit and talk.

"After the Triwizard Tournament, I kept writing to Viktor for a while. And I told mum and dad that he was a penpal, and that it was wonderful being able to make friends with someone from such a different background. They usually just agree with me, they're smart, but sometimes I think they feel out of their depths with the wizard stuff no matter how many of my school books they read." Harry suddenly got a mental picture of Hermione as a parent, reading through all her kid's coursework. "Anyway, they encouraged me to make friends, because they know I haven't always had the best luck with that, but mum knew there was a bit more to it." Hermione plucked strands of grass as she talked, and weaved them together. Harry thought she might be avoiding eye contact. "Mum said there was nothing wrong with having a romantic relationship with Viktor, even with us living so far apart, so long as we both knew where we stood. She asked me if he was allowed to see other girls or me other boys. She said I should be as honest as possible, and to pretend like Viktor could walk in on me at any moment, because if I did something I didn't want him to see, then that would be how I knew it was wrong."

"Your mum sounds pretty smart," said Harry. Hermione nodded.

"My point is, I think you can be friends with your students, especially the ones you already were friends with. And think of how Remus was able to support you as a teacher and as a friend, and use that as your compass point. If Dumbledore had walked into his office while he was talking to you, he never would have been ashamed of taking you under his wing. And he never gave you an unfair advantage in class, we all knew that, even though that might have been easier to deal with than you just being some kind of natural all of a sudden."

Harry nodded. He felt like a great weight had been taken away from him. He knew where to draw the boundaries now. Harry had been very vulnerable with Remus, learning how to cast a Patronus and reliving his parents' deaths, and Remus had always been kind and supportive.

But Harry had been focussed, hyper focussed on the task at hand, and so had never fallen apart. That was how Harry usually managed to keep it together. Yes, he was in great risk with the Dementors, and they were still the form his boggart took, so his fear was real, but it had never overwhelmed him because when he saw them, he just focussed on conjuring the charm and getting rid of them. The darkest times for him had been when he felt truly helpless, like in the summer before his fifth year at Hogwarts, trapped in the Muggle world and reliving Cedric's death over and over. He had coped with that by stealing newspapers and scouring them for evidence of Voldemort's return, trying to give himself a task. Draco must be feeling like that now-he was haunted by the past with no real goal for the future. Passing NEWTs wasn't enough of a goal-it's too passive. The NEWTs will happen no matter what Draco does.

Hermione was happy to let Harry puzzle it out, and afterwards they walked to the feast together. Before they stepped inside, Hermione gave Harry a quick hug.

"I've missed you. Even just sitting quietly together. Don't be a stranger," she told him. Harry grinned.

"I suppose I could plan my lessons in the library if you wanted company," he said.

They agreed to see more of each other, and Harry tried not to think of the other times they had agreed the same thing as he left Hermione to sit with the rest of the staff.


	6. Chapter 6

When Harry left the feast he was feeling incredibly at peace. He felt like he had a proper direction and purpose and was already thinking of other students he would be able to help. He had complained about wizards not valuing mental health without thinking of what he could do to help, but now he knew he had to do something. He thought Draco was probably a big enough case that he deserved undivided attention, but once he felt Draco was coping better, he planned to go to McGonagall and set himself up as a kind of counsellor. 

Harry was determined to think of Draco professionally. Every time he slipped up and thought about the kiss, he reminded himself forcefully that Draco was vulnerable and needed Harry’s help. He probably would have kissed anyone that was comforting him. Harry wasn’t special, he just happened to be there. Better to pretend it never happened and focus on helping Draco feel comfortable enough that he could talk to someone else, make friends out of the other students, maybe find a more suitable neck to kiss. The thought made Harry feel lonely, but it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be alone forever. 

Draco was waiting for him in his office when he got there. He was sitting in the same armchair as before, but the couch was now a bed. Harry felt stupid for suggesting a futon. Of course Draco could transfigure a couch to a bed. He could probably transfigure a watch into a bed if he wanted. Harry sat in the other armchair. He had decided to wait and see what Draco brought up before making him talk about anything. 

Harry didn’t see how Draco moved, but suddenly their lips were touching and Draco was holding Harry’s face gently. Harry kissed back without thinking, and grabbed at Draco’s robes, pulling him closer. Draco pulled back and took Harry’s glasses off and in those seconds, Harry pulled himself together. He grabbed Draco’s wrists, still holding his glasses.   
“I can’t,” he said firmly.  
Draco gave him a skeptical look.  
“I’m not making this up, you like me too,” he said.  
“Draco, I’m your teacher.”  
Draco laughed.   
“Here I was thinking you had a problem with me being a guy!” Draco had an evil look in his eyes. “Okay, so you’re my teacher. Teach me something,”  
“I’m serious!” Harry tried to push Draco back into his own chair, but Draco wouldn’t move. He was stronger than he looked. “I’ve decided to help you, but I have to keep it professional. I can’t do… anything else.”  
“Like what?” Draco was grinning. “Tell me what’s off the table so I don’t get confused.”  
“Draco.” Harry let go of Draco’s wrists and leaned away. He knew what Draco was doing, trying to make him think that way. Harry had been trying all day to skate over the possibilities, rejecting them before they could develop into fantasies.   
“Would it be different if we were still students together?”  
Harry remembered how he had obsessed over Draco just a couple of years ago. He remembered dreaming of finding him, alone, up to something. He could have jinxed him, but instead he always tackled him. That hatred he’d once felt made it better. When he had kissed Ginny, it was nice and sweet. It wasn’t the battle he’d imagined with Draco. 

But when he was 16, it took almost nothing to make him think that way. He was dangerously passionate. And cursing someone didn’t seem as satisfying as hitting them. He couldn’t do either now. Harming a student would be even worse than kissing a student, surely. 

Draco was kneeling in front of Harry, and as he saw Harry’s protests getting weaker, he grew more confident. He started stroking Harry’s legs, starting at the knees and moving upwards to his belt then back to his knees.   
“Draco, you can’t,” Harry said, feeling utterly trapped. He hated Draco for putting him in this position.  
“I haven’t seen you angry in too long,” Draco said. “You were calm and collected, even when the Dark Lord was trying to kill you in front of everyone. You didn’t hate him, did you? You’ve stopped hating me too … You always have to do things the right way, don’t you, Potter?”

No, he hadn’t hated Voldemort. He’d pitied him. And in a way, he had pitied Draco as well. But now, he wasn’t some helpless kid caught up in something too big for him. Harry couldn’t help but remember all the times Draco had been all too in control of his actions. When he broke Harry’s nose by stomping on it. When he conspired with Rita Skeeter and took such obvious delight in his discomfort. All the times he had thrown Harry’s dead parents into his face. Harry was definitely angry now. He shoved Draco’s hands away and tried to stand up, but Draco was in his way, pushing down on his chest. Harry stood up, forcing Draco with him and Draco had a moment of doubt, thinking he’d pushed too far, before Harry grabbed Draco by the neck and kissed him.

Draco let Harry push him all the way to the wall and tried to give back as good as he was getting. Harry’s kisses were not the gentle ones Draco had given him before, trying to win him over. Harry was kissing like this was a fight and he was going to win. Draco broke away from the kisses to gasp for breath and Harry kept kissing Draco’s neck, and tore his shirt out of the way to bite at his shoulders. Draco pushed Harry in the chest, getting free of the wall and Harry pushed him back. Obviously frustrated and competitive, Draco hooked his foot around Harry’s ankle and pushed him to the floor. Draco climbed on top of Harry before he could recover and held his wrists above their heads and kissed him, more slowly now. Harry waited until Draco let go of his wrists to start pull at the buttons on Harry’s shirt, and then twisted and pushed until he was on top. Draco kept at Harry’s buttons while Harry kissed and bit him. Harry shivered at Draco’s touch on his bare chest and Draco pressed his advantage. Harry let Draco roll them again so that he could unbutton Draco’s shirt while Draco was on top. 

Draco pushed Harry’s shirt and robes free of his arms and kissed and bit his bare chest. He looped his fingers in Harry’s belt and tugged. Harry came over in goosebumps and Draco kissed them. Harry managed to get Draco’s shirt off and then faltered. He didn’t know what he was doing.

Harry pushed Draco off, but not with the same force as before. He pulled his knees to his chest and rested his chin on his knees.   
“Draco, I can’t…”  
“For fucks sake, we’re on holiday, can we just pretend you’re not my teacher?” Draco’s voice was strained with tension.   
Harry kneaded his forehead with his hands. For a stupid moment then, he had thought that if he gave Draco what he wanted then he might stop. But the realisation that it wasn’t just a kiss that Draco wanted had stopped him cold. For all his talk about being a teacher, Harry suddenly felt very young.   
“I’ve never… I never…”  
“Just say what you mean,” said Draco. Draco was realising that Harry had always had the power in their relationship. Harry had turned down Draco’s friendship. Harry had always risen to Draco’s challenges. Harry nearly killed Draco. Then Harry saved Draco’s life. Harry had always been in control.   
“I’ve only kissed two people. I haven’t done anything like this before. I thought I’d decided to not do this. I don’t get confused like this!”  
“Can we deal with thinking and being confused later?” Draco asked.  
Harry nodded into his knees. Draco scooted closer.   
“Just--You do know what you’re doing, right?” said Harry.  
“Not like that … Harry--” Draco scrunched up his face. “Potter, I’ve been with people, but not anything like--” After being so frustrated with Harry for not being able to speak, he suddenly got it. But there were some things he didn’t want to think about. He sighed and stood up. He took his pants off and flopped on the bed. When Harry looked up again, Draco had wrapped himself in blankets. 

Apparently, that was enough for the night.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More mature content in this one.

After that night, Harry had found it hard to move on. He wanted to take back his hesitation and see where it might have lead. He was a lot more confident in his dreams. And even though he was trying to convince himself that it was for the best, and that next time he would be strong enough to resist, no matter what Draco did, he was bitterly disappointed that the opportunity never came up.

For the next week, Harry couldn’t find Draco anywhere, so he tried to throw himself into work. There were fewer than twenty people at Hogwarts, and the castle seemed vast and lonely. Harry didn’t think Draco was even sleeping in his office anymore; with the whole castle empty, he had his pick of sleeping spots. He couldn’t even ask Hermione’s advice, even if he had been comfortable telling her something so intimate, because she had left for the Burrow as soon as she could. Harry tried not to resent her for knowing where she stood with her lover. 

On Christmas Eve, Harry was finished with his markings and couldn’t plan any more. He’d even started preparing himself for his own NEWTs, which he’d neglected during the busy first term. There was a surprising amount of crossover with Defence Against the Dark Arts and the subjects he was going to attempt, so he didn’t feel too rusty. But he decided to wander the halls of Hogwarts instead, looking for something his father and friends might have missed on their map.

It was a project of his that had started because of the staff’s obligation to patrol the corridors checking for rule-breaking students or gaps in their defence. He was talking to all the portraits and finding the history of every statue and suit of armour, trying to find some secret phrase that might unlock something new. 

He found Draco in the Hufflepuff common room of all places. Harry heard something inside as he was walking past the kitchens, and because there were no Hufflepuff’s staying over the holidays, he tapped out the password and walked in with his wand out. The entrance was long and narrow, allowing Harry to walk slowly and remain hidden.

Draco was sitting at the table in front of the fireplace, reading and taking notes. He was wearing a yellow and brown jumper and was completely absorbed in what he was doing, so much so that he didn’t notice Harry step through the door.

Harry watched quietly for a moment, noticing how Draco looked with his guard down. His prominent cheekbones were flushed lightly from the fire, and his hair fell naturally around his face. He had always been thin, but already Harry could see that the two weeks off had agreed with him. He didn’t look brittle. He looked handsome. That fact was not going to make their next meeting any easier for Harry. 

Harry must have made some noise, because suddenly Draco’s head snapped up, and Harry managed to cast a shield charm just in time to block the jinx that flew at him. Draco dropped his wand in shock and backed away.  
“I’m sorry!” he said. “I didn’t-- I just reacted!”  
Draco’s hands were shaking and he was glaring at the floor. Harry pocketed his wand and moved towards him.  
“It’s OK, Draco, what’s wrong?”  
Draco shook his head violently.  
“I could have hurt you,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore.”  
“I can take it,” Harry said gently. “I’m quick like that.”  
Draco crouched down on his toes and held his head. His breathing was whooshing through him in gasps.  
“What’s happening?” Harry asked, bewildered. He kneeled down to try and see Draco better.  
“I don’t belong here,” he gasped.  
Harry reached out and hugged Draco as he had before and, like before, it calmed him. He gradually steadied his breathing and then collapsed into a sit. Harry rearranged himself around Draco and slowly, hesitatingly, brushed his blond hair out of his face. He stroked it again and again, letting his fingertips brush Draco’s scalp and feeling the strands catch in between his fingers. Draco sat still and let Harry comb through his hair.   
“My mother used to brush my hair when I was little,” he told Harry. “Before I came to Hogwarts I used to wear it long, like Father.”  
“It’s getting long now,” said Harry.   
Draco leaned into Harry’s shoulder. The two of them sat in silence. Harry decided that he would give himself a pass, at least for the holidays. He could deal with the teacher/student nonsense later. It seemed incredibly unimportant when compared to how much he wanted Draco to kiss him again. 

After a long pause, Draco scooted to his feet. He held his hand out and brought Harry up. Harry felt surprisingly shy. He avoided Draco’s eyes but awkwardly ducked towards him and kissed him, unsure of whether to aim for his lips or his cheek and got somewhere in the middle. 

“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” Draco told Harry.   
“Shut up,” Harry said, shoving him lightly. Draco stumbled backwards, grinning.  
“Are we … on holiday?” Draco asked significantly. Harry’s mouth was suddenly too dry to reply. He nodded instead. “Do we have to stay in this ridiculous room?” asked Draco.  
“You started it!” said Harry.  
“I was trying it out.” Draco said. “I don’t think sunshine and flowers suit me.” Harry shook his head but took Draco’s hand when he offered it and they both walked out. 

Harry and Draco dropped out of holding hands naturally just before the Great Hall and walked quietly side by side up stairs and down corridors to Harry’s office. There was a humming tension and neither dared to break it. Harry had never been so sure of mutual attraction. He thought if they touched, that might be it, he might not be able to stop himself from acting in the middle of the castle, and not give a damn who came along and saw them. 

Finally, after the longest walk of Harry’s life, they reached his classroom. He scanned the room quickly and grinned when he found it empty. He grabbed Draco on either side of the face and kissed him. He felt as though all the tension that had thrummed between them was now concentrated in their touches, and the places where their skin met were sharply electric. Harry’s stomach fluttered wildly. He felt tingles up his neck. They eagerly kissed, and tried to maneuver the classroom at the same time. They knocked into a desk and laughed. Draco untangled himself from Harry’s grip and lead him at a half run to the office. Draco struggled with the door handle in his hurry and this made them both laugh again. Everything was funny in a wonderful way.

When he managed to get through the door, Draco turned back to Harry and pulled him close. They kissed and melted into each other. As the kiss continued, Draco snuck his hands under Harry’s jumper and shirt to touch the warm skin in the small of his back. Harry shivered slightly at his cold hands and copied the movement. Draco was thin and his skin was soft; once Harry started touching it, he couldn’t seem to stop.

He started tugging at Draco’s jumper, and then burst into laughter again. Draco looked at him oddly.  
“Why are you wearing a Hufflepuff jumper?” Harry asked. Draco started laughing too.   
“I was cold waiting for the fire to warm up,” he said.   
“Oh!” said Harry. He pointed to his fireplace with his wand, and the wood and pinecones inside caught fire. “Now I don’t have to worry about doing this,” he said, and he took Draco’s tops off, leaving his chest bare. “Have you always been this pale?”  
“Oh, shut up. It’s not like you have more colour.”   
Harry grinned and shrugged out of his own jumper and t-shirt.   
“My eyes are up here,” Harry said, with a nervous laugh. Draco was staring at him and apart from getting changed awkwardly in front of people, he hadn’t really been on display like this before. Draco snapped out of it and stepped into a kiss, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck. Harry automatically held Draco’s waist. 

They both began to roam each other's bodies. Harry jumped a little when Draco gently hooked two fingers in his jeans. Draco pulled back, but Harry caught his elbow.   
“I’m okay,” Harry told him. Draco smirked and popped open his top button, raising his eyebrow. “Not everything is a challenge,” Harry said, as Draco slowly moved his zip down, drawing the movement out.   
“I’m definitely going to win if you’re not even playing,” said Draco. He confidently stripped Harry’s pants down. There was an awkward moment when neither of them moved, and then Harry pulled Draco onto the couch. Draco leaned on top of Harry and kissed him with confidence. Harry copied Draco’s movements and touches and tried to keep up. Draco found his wand in his jeans, and transfigured the couch into a bed, giving them more room, and dropped the wand carelessly, causing it to emit several sparks. They scooted towards the centre of the bed and Draco pulled his pants off. 

Draco didn’t give Harry time to get nervous, he just positioned himself in between Harry’s legs and leaned on his elbows. There was fabric between them, but Harry had never been that bare against another person, hadn’t ever had anyone touch him there and he was aware of every brush against him, no matter how gentle. Draco moved slowly, lightly extending the touch with long, intense movements. Harry held Draco at his shoulder blades and wondered at the feel of the muscles moving under his skin. He didn’t think it could feel better, until Draco rolled them both so they were facing each other on their sides and reached down with his hand. 

Again, Harry decided to copy him. Though he was new at this, he knew what felt nice on himself so he was confident he could do the same for Draco. The skin on skin contact felt incredible.   
“Careful,” said Draco. It came out like a sigh.  
“Did I hurt you?” asked Harry. He lessened his grip immediately, albeit reluctantly.   
“No.” Speaking seemed difficult. Draco’s breathing was coming out in pants and gasps. “You’re just… I’m close,”   
Harry realised what Draco meant and flushed with victory.  
“Careful yourself,” he said. Draco moaned and pushed his forehead into Harry’s shoulder. Harry grabbed Draco around the waist and pulled him closer and they both sped their hands up. Harry swore under his breath. That was Draco’s undoing, and his hand flexed around Harry as he came. After catching his breath, Draco continued his stroking, and Harry followed within seconds. 

They both wrapped their arms around each other and moved closer, chest to chest, as they caught their breath back. Harry grabbed at the blanket and pulled it over both of them. Draco nuzzled into Harry’s neck and Harry wrapped his arms around him.   
“So, do we need to talk about this?” Harry said. Draco traced circles on Harry’s chest, playing with the fine hairs that grew in soft curls.   
“Probably,” said Draco. His voice was relaxed, almost lazy.   
“I can’t believe I feel more nervous about talking about my feelings than I do about… the other stuff,” Harry said.   
“I liked it,” said Draco. “I’m not afraid to say that.”  
“Yeah, fine, I liked it too,” said Harry. “That’s not hard to say, it’s pretty obvious we liked that.”  
Draco leaned up on his elbow so he could look Harry in the eye.   
“I’d like to do it again. I’d like to do different things. Give me half an hour and I’ll show you something new.”  
Harry felt his stomach flutter and tingles ran up and down his body. His mouth was dry, so he swallowed.  
“Do you want anything more than that?” Harry asked.  
“You say that like what I’m suggesting isn’t very much.” Draco pointedly let his eyes roam over Harry’s body. “I’m pretty creative.”  
“I mean, do you want to just do this in here for a while, or do you want to be boyfriends,” Harry blushed. It seemed pretty silly to say it out loud. Belatedly, Harry realised he hadn’t offered the option to leave it at that, to go back to how they were. It didn’t feel like a real option.  
“Are you asking me out, Potter?”  
“I think we’re on a first name basis at least,” said Harry.  
“I thought you weren’t allowed to date students.”  
“I’m not, but it seemed a bit mean to say so now.”  
“I can keep a secret,” Draco said. “I won’t get you in trouble. Besides, secrets turn me on.” Draco brushed his hair back out of his face. “I don’t think I ever had more sex than during that time when I was a Death Eater. The fun part, I mean, before I started freaking out and you tried to cut me into tiny pieces.”  
“I didn’t mean that,” Harry said quickly. “I didn’t know what the spell did.”  
“I don’t care,” said Draco, arching his eyebrow. “I think the fact you were following me around like some middle-aged woman with a crush on Gilderoy bloody Lockhart puffed me up even more.”  
“I was pretty obsessed …”  
“Yeah, well, who can blame you?” Draco flopped back down into Harry’s arms and resumed tracing his chest. Harry relaxed. He didn’t know what he would have done if Draco had insisted they go public. “I knew you suspected I was up to no good, but didn’t see how it was that different to other years, so I used to imagine you were going to burst in on me any second.” Draco smirked at the thought. “As I said, lots of sex.”

Unreasonably, Harry felt a tug of jealousy. Not just that someone else had been with Draco, but also that Draco had been with someone else when Harry was left by himself, so consumed by the thought of Draco he never even thought to get rid of that tension another way. 

“I don’t go around bragging about this stuff, anyway. Or didn’t. It was my only off-limits brag. I don’t have anyone to brag to, I don’t know why you’re so worried.”  
“I don’t really know either. This year feels weird to me, like I used to be a dog on a lead and someone’s let the lead go. I know I’m still at Hogwarts, but I could have gone and done anything. And I know I broke the school rules on a constant basis when I was a student, but it was almost always for a good reason, and there really aren’t that many rules to break as a professor.”  
“You’re worried about the rules?”  
“I’ve said that from the start. It’s not like I can just do detention and be forgiven anymore. Why did you think I was worried?”  
“I’m not exactly popular at the moment. I don’t know what would happen to you if someone found out, but I bet it would be worse with me than it would be if you were shagging Granger.” That was a mental image Harry could have done without. Odd how last year, when it had been impossible not to at least think of her sleeping so close to him he had reminded himself that thoughts meant nothing because, after all, he had once thought of much worse with Draco Malfoy of all people.  
“No, I’m pretty sure I’d be stoned to death for getting in the middle of her and Ron…”  
“The Weasley girl then, if she were here and your student-you get my point, right?”  
Harry mulled it over. He hadn’t really thought further than how disappointed McGonagall would be if she thought he wasn’t taking this seriously. But so many of the students still didn’t trust Slytherins, most of the fights he had broken up were around that subject. He wasn’t sure if there was more fighting this year, or if he just hadn’t paid attention to any that weren’t between himself and Malfoy before. If it got out that he was giving Draco special attention, his authority would be ruined.

And it was bigger than that. So far, Shacklebolt had allowed Harry to sit in on trials for witches and wizards that he hadn’t had a relationship with. It wasn’t like he made a huge difference, but his opinion was always valued. If the Ministry thought that Draco was whispering in his ear, they would want to distance themselves. 

Would Ron and Hermione understand? Hermione would, surely. Well… probably. Harry had no idea how Ron would react.   
“I didn’t mean to stress you out,” Draco said quietly. “You look like you want to take it back.”  
Harry snapped out of his reverie and hugged Draco tightly.  
“No,” he said. “I’m not taking it back.”


	8. Chapter 8

Harry and Draco got dressed and headed down for lunch. Draco insisted on going first, so that it didn’t look like they were going together, and Harry saw that he had been telling the truth: the secret did make it more fun. When they got to the Great Hall, the usual tables had been replaced with two small ones, and the Hall was empty, but they didn’t sit together. Instead they watched each other from across the room, and let the tension build.

Harry’s head was full of the memory of what Draco had looked like without clothes, and he couldn’t stop himself from imagining taking them off again. He knew what it would feel like to kiss him, could practically feel the cold wood of the table against his shoulders as he imagined using the table as a bed. He knew if someone sat next to him his arousal would be obvious, which only made his erection harder. It became hard to swallow food because his mouth was dry and he felt entirely uninterested in feeding himself. He forced his way through his meal for the sake of not having to exit his office again. 

Draco finished first and swaggered out in a way that made Harry suddenly able to eat again. He bolted down his food and it took a supreme force of will to make sure he didn’t run for his office. He was glad he didn’t run into anyone on the way up, because although standing had made his bulge a little less obvious, he wasn’t willing to test how noticeable it was. 

When he opened the door to his office, he couldn’t see Draco. For a moment he was irrationally angry, but then he thought to check his bedroom. Once he was through the enchanted doorway, he could hear the sound of the shower in his bathroom. He followed the noise and saw that Draco was already inside. Harry didn’t hesitate to take his clothes off and join him. Draco moved out of the way to allow Harry to get properly wet, but Harry pulled him close so they were both under the water.

Draco’s skin felt different when it was wet. Harry touched him all over, watching and feeling how his hands slipped easily from chest to shoulder, back to bum to leg. Draco held Harry by the jaw and tilted his face back up so that he could kiss him. Harry noticed that Draco was being very firm, and allowed him to take the lead. Draco held Harry still as he kissed his neck and nibbled on his ear. Harry shuddered with pleasure. Draco pressed his body close to Harry’s as he kissed Harry’s collarbone, sucking gently on the ridge it created. He released Harry’s jaw and stroked his chest confidently. He pulled softly on Harry’s nipples and stroked down his sides. When he reached Harry’s hips, Draco held them steady as he bent down onto his knees. 

Harry felt vulnerable and was about to protest that he didn’t want to be inspected that close when Draco stared directly into his eyes and licked his length. Harry’s mind went blank. Still maintaining eye contact, Draco licked again and again. Draco gripped the base with his hand and delicately covered the tip with his mouth, sucking gently. Harry slapped his hands to the shower wall to keep himself standing. Draco’s tongue was now swirling in circles while his hand pumped slowly. It was sensory overload. Draco had started very gentle, but seemed to be losing control. The rhythm to his movements had seemed careful and now was inconsistent. His enjoyment was obvious, and Harry was powerless to return it. He tapped Draco on the head, meaning to warn him so he didn’t come in his mouth, but Draco just looked up at Harry and maintained eye contact while he moved. Harry shuddered and came, and Draco slowly eased his mouth and hands to a stop. He gave Harry’s length one last slow lick and then stood up, automatically hugging Harry to him.   
“That was so satisfying,” Draco said. He bit lightly into Harry’s shoulders and held him close.  
“Satisfying for you?” Harry said wonderingly. He didn’t know how to articulate how it felt. He felt like all his words had been swept from his brain.   
“Mmm,” said Draco. “I’m good, aren’t I?” He massaged Harry’s back with firm fingers. “Admit it, I’m the best you’ve ever had.”  
“Not hard to be number one out of one,” Harry said. He felt like he should be massaging Draco back, but his body seemed to be made out of jelly. It was all he could do to keep standing. 

Draco pulled back and looked Harry in the eye. He looked disbelieving.   
“Okay, you’re the best I’ve ever had!” Harry said. “Even if I’d had millions, you’d still be number one.” Draco rolled his eyes.  
“I wasn’t fishing for a compliment. I was questioning your experience.”  
“Oh,” said Harry. “I already told you I’ve only kissed Cho and Ginny. Ginny and I sometimes kissed for almost an hour, and I never got up the courage to do anything more. I think she would have let me … I’m not really sure, I kept expecting for someone to walk in on us and I didn’t know what I was doing, it was just less stressful to just enjoy kissing her.” Harry pulled Draco back into a hug so he didn’t have to look at him directly. “I know you’re more experienced. I like that. It’s less pressure on me to know what to do.”

After a moment, Draco stepped out of the shower and started to dry himself off. Harry let him think as they both got dressed again.   
“I’m going to just get the truth out of the way,” Draco said. “So in fourth year, Pansy Parkinson started wanting me, and I thought it was funny to watch her struggle. She did everything she could to get my attention. And when the endless ‘accidental’ having me walk in when she was only in a towel or bending over in front of me, or picking hairs off my robes didn’t seem to work, she tried to make me jealous. She basically got herself handed around the older kids, I think she wanted to make me think she knew what she was doing. She wasn’t into girls, but she strung along Hestia for a while, thinking that I would find two girls making out in the common room irresistible. I won’t say I didn’t like it, but mostly I found it very funny that I could make her like that.   
“And then the Yule Ball came up, and she waited for me to ask her up until two weeks before when she finally agreed to go with Warrington. And so I waited until the day before and asked her, and she immediately dumped him. We left the ball early. She wasn’t hideous, but she wasn’t stunning either, so I didn’t feel the need to show her off on my arm. I did feel the need to find out what she had been learning. So we had sex, and we continued to for the rest of the year. It was … okay. In the holidays she found books and learned how to do more than just lie there. She knew I was losing interest, but I couldn’t be bothered breaking up with her. She was every bit as enthusiastic as I’d hoped, and the more bored I got, the more she tried. Anyway, all it took for me to ditch her was Blaise making some comment that made me think he’d be willing. And he was, which was great for those last few weeks of term, and then when I got home father put a stop to it. I honestly thought Crabbe and Goyle were too stupid to realise what was going on, but obviously not. Anyway, he got dragged off to Azkaban not long after that, so I spent fifth year doing whatever I wanted, and then Pansy wormed her way back in by saying she didn’t mind if Blaise was there too. Blaise had been open to it, but he didn’t like how I was with Pansy, so he ended things. And then in sixth year, I already told you I went a bit wild, and sometimes it was Pansy, and sometimes it was someone else, but I was careful not to stick to any guy too long in case Crabbe and Goyle found out again. I’m not sure if they did or not, or if no one cared because I was doing something more important than all that.   
“Secrets on top of secrets. And then you cursed me and I had been having no luck with my mission and I honestly haven’t been remotely interested since then. I worried about it a bit, and tried despite my anxiety a couple of times with Pansy, but I think that was her limit. And then you stood up for me a couple of times and I’ve been sleeping in your office so close to your bed, knowing how to get in because you’re not remotely subtle about the entrance and it’s been driving me crazy because even though I told myself you had wanted me for a while there, I didn’t really believe it, and this time I couldn’t take it out on anyone else because I isolated myself.”

During his long confession, Draco had sat on Harry’s bed and Harry had leaned against the wall. Now he climbed onto the bed too. Draco seemed to be waiting for him to say something.   
“I’m not afraid of competition,” Harry said. “Neither of us is just a means to an end, you’re the only one that I’ve obsessed over. I’m the only one that you trusted to watch over you. I see you and I don’t think about how I’m new at this and who you’ve been with in the past. I think that I don’t feel alone for the first time in a long time. I want you, not just because I’m unspeakably attracted to you, but because you feel … right.”

Draco sighed. They both moved to lie in the bed under the covers. Harry automatically moved to hold Draco from behind. They fit together, Harry’s belly pressing into Draco’s back and their legs tangled.   
“I have to leave early tomorrow,” Harry said. He wanted so badly just to sleep, but he didn’t want Draco to think he was running away. “I’m spending Christmas with Ron’s family. Will you be okay?” Draco snorted softly. He was playing with Harry’s fingers.  
“When will you be back?”  
“I’ll stay there Christmas night, and probably come back some time Boxing Day, but maybe not ‘til the day after.”  
“I’m sleeping now,” Draco told Harry. Harry snuggled in closer. He felt like up until that moment there was something missing, and Draco’s body was filling that void.


	9. Chapter 9

When Harry woke up, Draco had shifted over but his hand was stretching out to hold his waist. He was tempted to let Draco sleep, but couldn’t help himself. He eased his way under Draco’s arm and gently stroked his chest. Draco’s eyes snapped to awareness immediately.   
“Morning,” Harry said.  
“Morning,” said Draco. He drew Harry closer to him. “Happy Christmas.” Harry grinned and nuzzled into Draco’s neck. “That tickles,” Draco protested sleepily.

It was incredibly hard to extricate himself from his warm bed and the willing embrace of Draco. As Harry walked towards Hogsmeade in order to apparate, he felt as though there were marks on his skin where Draco’s arms were, and it was as if he had gotten up in the morning and left behind half his body.

The cold morning air helped to clear away his pining. He needed focus for today. Though he had yearned for The Burrow more than he had expected, he had avoided thinking too hard about meeting Ginny there. Even weeks ago, he had been thinking it would be better to clearly state that they weren’t together. Now, it was essential. He didn’t consider being with Draco cheating, not when he hadn’t so much as kissed Ginny since Bill and Fleur’s wedding. But neither did he think either of them would be truly free until they cleared the air.

Now that he knew what to be aware of, he felt when he exited Hogwart’s boundary, and he took a few more steps to be sure, before Disapparating. Once he Apparated just down the country lane from The Burrow, Harry found himself considering flying back to Hogwarts. While convenient, he didn’t think he would ever get used to the awful feeling that went with Apparition. He re-centred the small pack on his back and approached the house, knowing that he would Apparate back. He didn’t want to waste a single moment travelling that could be spent at either of his two favourite places.

He walked easily into the kitchen and was delighted to see Mrs Weasley at the stove. She spotted him at the same time and bustled over to give him a warm hug.  
“How are you, Harry dear?” she said. “It does me good to see you not looking like a starved puppy, I must say!” She let him go and started filling a plate for him. “Hogwarts is good for you,”she told him. George and Ginny were sitting at the table and Harry hugged them both while Mrs Weasley piled on bacon, eggs and toast onto his plate. He gratefully accepted it, feeling the hunger that came after Apparition sickness passed. 

“How’s work going?” Harry asked George.   
“We can’t make products fast enough, nearly everything’s on backorder. Ron’s driving me mad, keeps trying to get new stuff in when we can’t cope with the existing stuff.” There was a tinge of pride in his voice. “Did you know he’d been keeping a journal of ideas? He said he used it to distract himself last year.”  
Harry shook his head in wonder. He had known Ron was helping manage the store but hadn’t realised that he was contributing to it as well.   
“Go get some of those snakes Ron designed, show Harry,” said Mrs Weasley. “He’s doing a really good job.”   
“Don’t sound too surprised,” said Ron from the doorway. He threw what looked like a cheap Muggle toy snake at Harry. As he caught it, it began to move, creeping around his wrist with convincing life. It hissed madly and waggled its eyes.  
“This is amazing!” said Harry.  
“Should have known it wouldn’t freak you out,” said Ron. “I’m going over our adventures and making the worst parts into toys.”  
“Sounds therapeutic,” remarked Harry.  
“He’s not the only one cashing in on it,” Ginny told him. “Ron got an owl the other day, they want to make a chocolate frog card for him. And Shacklebolt arrested Dung for selling ‘genuine’ Harry Potter and Friends autographs.” Harry groaned. “How do you manage being a famous person and a professor?”   
“Dumbledore managed it,” Harry said automatically. It had become his natural defence. He reminded himself he was with family and forced himself to continue. “The younger ones don’t really care, and the older ones knew me at school, so they’d gotten used to the idea of being around me. McGonagall tells me parents keep coming up with excuses to meet with me, but none of them would be good enough for the other professors so she’s managed to turn them all down so far.”

Hermione entered the room, hair still wet from a shower. She smiled at Harry and moved naturally under Ron’s arm. Harry finished off his breakfast quickly to give them room at the table. For Christmas lunch they would be eating outside to fit everyone, but in the meantime the kitchen was getting cramped. Ginny caught Harry’s eye and they both walked outside. Harry had never been to The Burrow during winter, but there was some kind of charm keeping the garden warm.   
“We let the snow in generally, but with everyone needing to eat outside, it’s better to have it warm,” Ginny explained. Harry looked at her properly for the first time. Her eyes were brown and lovely, and he was shocked he had forgotten that. Her hair was bound in a messy braid and she was wearing a huge, dark blue Weasley jumper with a ‘G’ on it.   
“I didn’t realise I missed you until I saw you,” Harry said gently. Ginny smiled sadly.   
“Me neither. Doesn’t bode well, does it.”  
“I don’t think I would have managed last year without the thought of coming home to you. But this year, which is really a lot less stressful, I forgot … I forgot the colour of your eyes.”  
“It’s not just that,” said Ginny. “Last year, we didn’t know if we would survive. I didn’t dare think of the future. Now I have.” She grimaced. “I don’t think I could just be Harry Potter’s wife. Or even girlfriend. If that was my identity … it just doesn’t leave room to be me.”  
Harry and Ginny looked at each other. Harry attempted a smile.   
“At least we’re on the same page. I’m really sorry I avoided talking about it sooner.”  
“You would have had to drag me out of the sky to do that,” said Ginny gently. “I wasn’t ready for that chapter to be over.”  
They walked for a while in companionable silence. Harry had the bizarre impulse to tell her about Draco, something that showed him he really didn’t think of her romantically anymore, but he kept quiet. He wouldn’t like to hear that she had been with other people before they talked. He would have understood, but it still would have hurt. Especially seeing as he was starting to think that it wasn’t just about sex.

By the time he and Ginny entered the house again, the kitchen was empty. Harry left her in the living room to climb up to Ron’s room. He knocked out of habit.  
“Just a minute,” Ron cautioned. Seconds later, Ron opened the door, pulling his shirt down over wild orange hair. “Oh, it’s you. I was just getting changed.” Harry flopped down onto Ron’s bed.   
“I talked to Ginny,” Harry said.   
“How’d it go?”  
“Yeah, we agreed to end it. Or continue with it being ended.”  
“For the best, mate,” said Ron. “She wrote to me more than she wrote to you.”  
“I know.” They sat in silence for a bit, but Harry felt his secret threatening to come out. Better to take control rather than just blurt it, he reasoned. “I want to tell you something, but I don’t know how you’ll react.” Harry stared at the ceiling to avoid looking at Ron.   
“Full disclosure … Hermione’s here.” Hermione edged awkwardly out of Ron’s closet.   
“Sorry, Harry,” she said. “Mrs Weasley has been keeping us in separate rooms, we didn’t think she would feel comfortable with us alone together. Do you want me to leave?”  
“No,” said Harry honestly. “I was going to ask your opinion anyway.”

“So what’s going on?” asked Ron. He sat on Harry’s camp bed and Hermione settled herself leaning on him.   
“So Malfoy’s been sleeping in my office.” Ron and Hermione exchanged looks. “Hermione already told you,” Harry guessed.   
“Only so much happens to me to put in a letter,” said Hermione. “We tell each other what we eat just for something to say.” Harry shifted awkwardly. He had no idea how to continue. Ron started to say something but Hermione put her hand on his and he kept silent. Harry kept his eyes fixed on a Chudley Cannon’s poster.  
“Have you ever thought … have you ever thought about being with a guy?” Harry closed his eyes against their reactions. Ron and Hermione exchanged looks carefully. Hermione nudged Ron. It was him the question was directed to. Obviously she wasn’t opposed.  
“Uh, well … blimey mate, that’s put me on the spot. I mean Dean and Seamus are … gay, so that makes you think,” Ron said.  
“Dean and Seamus are gay?”  
“You are so oblivious,” sighed Hermione. Harry sat up. His friends were smiling kindly at him, as if they would love him no matter what. Which was probably true, seeing as they’d followed him despite threat of death multiple times. Harry found himself preferring the real challenge to talking about his feelings any day. There wasn’t much chance of a dragon bursting in, so ...  
“Okay, so I told you that he needed support, that we talked about stuff. He … he kissed me. And then I talked to Hermione about the support stuff and wanting to have boundaries, but didn’t want to mention the kiss.”  
“Kinda relevant information, Harry!” Hermione sounded exasperated. “That’s a bigger boundary than what we discussed!”  
“And then I decided to be professional and then I couldn’t be because …” Harry looked at them desperately, unable to articulate it. Ron and Hermione waited for a bit to see if he would finish his thought.  
“Harry, do you want to be with Draco?” asked Hermione. Harry looked at Ron to try and gauge his reaction. Ron was keeping a pretty straight face, but he couldn’t completely hide a bemused smile.   
“I think so, but …” Harry took in a deep breath. “I’m very attracted to him, and I feel like I might be the only one that gets him and I feel like I have to mention that I’m attracted to him again because that’s really important.” Ron snorted and Hermione smiled but they didn’t interrupt. Harry thought he was being more funny than that, but continued anyway. “I mean there’s the obvious, that we’ve hated each other for years, but that really doesn’t seem to matter anymore,” and Harry stopped himself from saying and it actually might make it hotter. “But then there’s the fact he’s my student and then there’s the fact he’s a Malfoy, so I don’t know what I’m feeling.”  
“We can’t tell you what to feel,” Hermione told him gently. “But we’re on your team, right Ron? Always on your team.”  
“What I don’t get is that it’s Malfoy,” Ron said. “He’s not what I’d call classically handsome,” Hermione glared at him. “What?” he protested.   
“Harry’s had very intense feelings about Draco since they met.”  
“Who would you call classically handsome?” Harry asked curiously. Ron turned very red and collapsed onto the bed, hiding behind Hermione.   
“I think you could do worse,” Hermione said. “He has nice cheekbones.” Harry and Ron laughed at Hermione’s matter-of-fact tone.   
“There’s the fact that he’s a giant git,” Ron said. “That counterbalances bone structure for me!”

The whole thing was ridiculous. Harry and Hermione probed Ron further, trying to get him to confess attraction to a guy, before Ron very pointedly turned the conversation to his latest invention, which Hermione was helping with. She was too excited by new magic to change the subject back. It was a potion that could be put into sweets that made a random body part grow. Ron had pitched it to give the recipient ridiculously sized breasts, but George had been skeptical about marketing. After all, kids were their main target, and that was the kind of thing that got kids banned from visiting their shop. So, Ron thought random body engorgement would be just as funny, and have the added bonus of surprising the pranker as well as the audience.   
“George is making me fiddle with the probability so that people don’t get massive dongs. He really isn’t as fun anymore.” 

They talked as they used to at Hogwarts, and Harry felt lighter than air. His friends supported him.


	10. Chapter 10

When Harry, Ron and Hermione went downstairs, they immediately exchanged guilty looks when they saw that most of the setup had already been done. Harry and Ron rushed to take plates from the kitchen outside and Hermione pulled out her wand and conjured candles in the surrounding garden. Though some candles were pressed into bushes, there was no danger of their small fire spreading. She saw one of the tables groaning under the weight of the dishes and reinforced it with another wave of her wand. As they worked, more guests arrived. Bill and Fleur came via car, unwilling to test Teddy’s tendency to wriggle on a broomstick. Mr Weasley made them promise to let him ‘take a look’ at it after lunch. Fleur shot Bill a warning look that he seemed to miss as he heartily agreed. The modest Volvo would probably be able to shoot fire by the end of the day.

Andromeda Tonks showed up soon after and immediately took hold of Teddy. Fleur caught Harry watching and took him aside.   
“You made a good call, ‘Arry,” she told him. “Dromeda loves Teddy but she is still ‘urting over ‘er ‘usband and daughter.” Andromeda did look sad as Teddy waved his little arms wildly.   
“I just wanted him to have the most stable home he could,”Harry said. “You and Bill are still so solid. I don’t know how you manage it.” Fleur gave him a sweeping kiss on each cheek for that and held herself even straighter as she went over to Bill. Harry smiled at how easy it was to make her happy. Fleur had an inner strength that he should have seen from the moment he met her, as a fellow Triwizard Champion, but it took the war to get him to see her as more than just beautiful. 

The lunch passed in a blur of good food and conversation. Harry found his ears pricking up at his name.  
“Of course the information is so valuable that we had to give him a reduced sentence, but he’s had no problem with giving us info and then going back to being an evil git in the past,” Percy was saying. “Harry’s word really only paints Narcissa and Draco in a good light, Lucius is still just awful.”  
“He’s useful though,” Mr Weasley said. “And I don’t know how innocent the other two are. Keeping an eye on Lucius gives us a reason to keep an eye on them too.” Percy nodded seriously.  
“When are you coming back to the Ministry, Harry?” he asked. “We could always use more help. Especially now we can’t put the fear of Dementors into people.”  
“I’m pretty happy training the next generation,” Harry said. “For what it’s worth, Draco’s been a quiet, respectful student this year. He’s very much struggling with his past, but just the other day he told me he was horrified by the idea of hurting anyone again.” Ginny looked at Harry funnily. Harry gave her what he hoped was an innocent smile. “I think I’m going to sign on for another year. Break that curse on the Defence position at least.”  
“You missed out Perce, he’s a good teacher,” George said. “Taught us plenty even though we thought we were pretty hot stuff at Defence.” Harry smiled. George still seemed like half a person, but at least he was talking more now. It was tragic watching him wait that half beat for Fred to finish his thought just after the Battle. And then he had gone silent for almost two whole months. Harry suspected that Ron had bullied him into perking up. He could see Ron watching George carefully, even more than Mrs Weasley did. 

“Harry, Cissy wants to meet Teddy,” Andromeda said quietly from across the table. She had allowed Bill to put Teddy in a high chair, but kept glancing back towards him. “Narcissa, I mean. Mrs Malfoy.”  
“Oh.” Harry’s mind whirled. “I thought she was, um …”  
“Vehemently opposed to anything that isn’t pureblood?” Harry smiled. “She wasn’t when we were growing up. Our parents wanted us to marry pureblood because the Black side of the family were … anyway, Bella was the exception in our family, playing up the Black hatred to get herself prioritised in the will I suspect. Cissy was the youngest, but she got arranged with Lucius, for her own sake, because after I married Big Ted she couldn’t be trusted to make a match herself, but she’s told me since that he was putting on his hatred of muggles for his father’s sake.” Harry felt a jolt of disbelief. How far back did father-worship go in that family? “Of course, when I married Big Ted, they had to cut me off. But she didn’t want to, I know. It was just safer for them to pick a side firmly. And now … I know she probably wants to prove to the world that their family aren’t as bad as all that and they can put aside things like blood status and even lycanthropy.” Andromeda was looking at Harry with pleading eyes. The whole table had gone quiet to listen to what he said. He felt like protesting, like reminding them all that he was only just 18 and they could make their own decisions, but he actually cared about this one.  
“Have you seen her since the war?” Harry asked. Andromeda nodded.   
“We’ve been meeting since the war ended. She’s so grateful you’re looking out for her Draco.”  
“I think they deserve a chance. I don’t know Narcissa, but Draco is beyond desperate to prove himself. He’s on track to get all O’s, I think he’s pushing himself to be known for his academics rather than just his last name.” Andromeda nodded fervently. “I would like for us to all meet together, just in case. I don’t think they would risk something as stupid as harming Teddy, but …” Harry tried to put his finger on what he thought they could do. “Maybe it would be useful to have more eyes and ears on what they say. See if they are willing to accept change.”  
Percy was looking at Harry speculatively. He could practically see the cogs turning.   
“I understand putting ambition before common sense,” he said slowly. “Can I be there?” 

Ron, Hermione, Mr Weasley and Fleur all started to speak at once. Harry held up a hand and they fell silent. Harry felt guilty over the power he held, but pushed on.   
“I think we should have an Easter gathering. With all of us. No one can feel evil when they’re eating Mrs Weasley’s eggs.” Mrs Weasley blushed and smiled. “Does that give everyone enough time to process their feelings?”  
“Harry and I are the only ones who have really seen Draco since the war,” Hermione said. “He’s working hard. I know connections are how Malfoy’s work, but maybe us being their connection is a good thing. We could teach them trust rather than blackmail.” Mr Weasley had a rather pitying smile on his face, but he chose not to point out Hermione’s naivety. Perhaps he thought it was nice that she could be naive, following what she’d been through. After all it was the sister of Andromeda and Narcissa who had tortured her to unconsciousness.

Lunch was so huge that they ended up having sandwiches from the leftovers for dinner, and that night Harry found himself alone in Ron’s room, Ron having left to sneak some time with Hermione. He was glad to have told them his secret, but he felt like he had accomplished all that he came to do. The conversation at lunch was an an added bonus, as he really hadn’t known how he was going to get his family to trust Draco, and that was suddenly a priority. Harry was slightly alarmed that he was thinking so far into the future, but even if his relationship with Draco didn’t work out, he felt an obligation to help Draco with sorting out the rest of it. He didn’t think that could happen unless Draco was seen to be trusted by his family, who had played such an important role in the right side of the war. 

Harry thought that he would want to stay at the Weasley’s longer, but with Ron and Hermione together, he mostly felt like an outsider. He’d played enough chess games and it was too cold to fly, even though he was curious to see what Ginny had learned. 

Harry found himself thinking more and more about Draco waiting for him back in his office. It’s only for the holidays, Harry reminded himself. And then next holidays? He didn’t feel very convincing. But he still felt like there was a timer on it, and needed to get back. So, on Boxing Day, after a blur of goodbyes that he couldn’t focus on, Harry Disapparated to Hogsmeade.


	11. Chapter 11

When Harry reached his office, Draco was sitting on the floor before a cauldron. Draco looked up slowly and smiled before returning his focus to the potion. Harry hadn’t realised how on edge Draco had been until he found himself surprised that he didn’t jump out of his skin when Harry walked through the door.  
“What’re you brewing?” Harry asked, joining him on the floor. Draco grinned wickedly.   
“Your Christmas present,” he said. Harry smiled nervously.   
“I didn’t get you anything.”  
“Don’t worry,” said Draco. “This is also my Christmas present.” Harry hadn’t heard that cocky drawl for a very long time, and it reminded him of his younger fantasies. Harry wanted to push him further, but Draco changed the subject. “How’s the family? I didn’t think you’d come back so soon.”   
“They’re great. I just couldn’t stop thinking …” about you, Harry nearly said. That sounded dangerously romantic. About your cock. Was that funny? Harry decided to just move on. “Your family actually came up.” Draco eyed Harry carefully. “Not in this context,” Harry said, gesturing between the two of them. “Though I did tell Ron and Hermione.”  
“Just when I think the houses are all bullshit, you go and act like such a Gryffindor,” Malfoy said, but he was smirking, so Harry knew he wasn’t really in trouble.   
“No, it was actually Andromeda Tonks who brought it up. Do you know her?”  
“Met her for the first time over the holidays. Nearly had a heart attack when I saw her because she looks way too much like Bellatrix for comfort. But she’s nice. Seems to be really trying with Mother. Which is amazing, because Mother has been so lonely for so long. They’re a bit gossipy when they’re together though.”  
“Right.” Harry tried to picture Narcissa Malfoy being gossipy and failed. “Well Andromeda wants for your mum to meet Teddy, her grandson. I got the feeling she asked Bill and Fleur, but they told her she had to ask me because I’m his godfather.”  
“You’re a godfather? Of all the people to choose to survive the war, they thought you would be the best bet?” Harry scratched his neck. He had thought the same thing. “What did you say?”  
“I suggested that we all have Easter together.”  
“Very funny. I’m sure Father will dress as the Easter Bunny and--you’re serious, aren’t you?”  
“I thought it would be good for our families to mingle. Make positive connections.”

Draco scratched his nose.   
“And Easter gives it enough time for Father to flip out and then realise it’s actually a good idea. And for me to get properly on Granger’s good side so that I have more than just you and Dromeda sticking up for me. This might actually be clever.” Draco’s smirk came back. “I must be having a Slytherin influence on you,” he said.   
“The sorting hat nearly put me in Slytherin anyway,” Harry said absently. “I had plenty of cunning before I started hanging out with you.”  
“Can you imagine if you were, if we had worked together? We would have won the war by third year.”  
“For which side?” Draco looked hurt.  
“Yours, always yours. We would still have had Weasley on our side, you had decided to be his friends before you got sorted, and I assume we would have had the whole school working together instead of a trio of kids against the world.” Harry smiled sadly. “You should tell more people that you were nearly in Slytherin. If you could have been, then anyone could be, and it won’t be the ‘evil’ house any more.”   
“I’ll think about it,” Harry said. “I don’t know if anyone would believe me. And I always kinda suspected it was because of the Horcrux inside me.” Draco stiffened. “It’s gone,” Harry assured him. Draco still looked a bit freaked out.   
“Putting a Horcrux inside a living thing is just the worst idea I can think of,” Draco shuddered. “I mean the magic involved in making an ordinary one is repulsive enough but to involve a person …”  
“You know how it’s done?” Harry asked softly.  
“My father was sure I was going to be killed. He was looking into it. We both decided it was better to die cleanly. It wasn’t an easy decision. I can’t believe he did that to you.”  
“It was an accident,” Harry said. “He planned to use my death to make one, and then the curse rebounded and I don’t really know what happened.”  
“He had more than one, didn’t he?”   
“Seven.” Draco looked like he might throw up. “Change the subject?” Harry asked. Draco nodded.

“I missed you while you were gone,” said Draco. “I wasn’t going to tell you that, seemed a bit pathetic, but …”  
“I missed you too.” Harry grinned. “What are you working on?” Draco spooned the potion out of the cauldron, checking the consistency, and let it fall back in.   
“It’s ready,” he pronounced. “Want to try it?”   
“I don’t even know what it is,” Harry said. He shuffled around so he was on his knees, ready to jump away.  
“That’s what makes it fun. You have to trust me.”  
“I trust you,” said Harry. He didn’t sound very convincing.   
“I promised you some creativity,” Draco said. He cocked his head to one side. “Hop on the bed.” Harry obeyed, his heart pumping in his throat. Draco waved his wand and ropes conjured around his wrists and bound him to the posts above his head. Draco found a tie and wrapped it carefully around Harry’s face, covering his eyes and tucking it under his head. “Still trust me?”

Harry didn’t trust himself to speak, so he nodded. He felt Draco unbutton and unzip his jeans, putting more pressure than was strictly necessary on his growing erection. Draco deftly removed both his jeans and underwear and then left Harry, half-naked for what felt like an age. When he touched him again, he was sneaking under his shirt, scratching at his chest. Harry felt his hands touch him everywhere, except where he wanted them most. Draco drew his hands lightly down his chest and down his thighs, just barely brushing Harry’s cock, bringing his hands to a rest on his knees. Harry wriggled against his ropes, but they were bound securely. If only Draco touched him once, Harry thought he could stand the teasing. Draco waited for Harry to be still again and brought his hands upwards, still ostensibly touching his legs but firmly grazing his penis as well. The touch didn’t bring Harry the relief he wanted. Draco pinched at his nipples, first gently and then more firmly, rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers. Harry could feel Draco’s breath warm against his leg. He wriggled expectantly. Then, all pressure vanished.  
“You’re such a tease,” Harry complained. Draco laughed softly and then his hand was around Harry’s cock, except it was slick with something. Draco pumped twice, very slowly, letting Harry feel it.  
“Like your present?” Draco asked. Harry made a noise at the back of his throat. Draco stroked again, still heartbreakingly slow. Draco slowly straddled Harry’s hips, and the feel of their erections touching made Harry swear under his breath. Draco rubbed himself against Harry firmly. He brought his lips to Harry’s earlobe and sucked. “Do you want to fuck me?” he purred.  
“Yes,” said Harry. He had no idea what he was doing but was too caught up to care. “Yesyesyes,” he said, in case Draco suspected his willingness. Draco sat up and gripped Harry’s cock behind him, and guided it slowly inside. Harry swore again. It was better than even Draco’s mouth had been. Draco started to rise again and Harry lifted his hips with him.   
“I’m not going away,” Draco told him. Draco placed his hands firmly on Harry’s chest to keep him still. “Let me.” So Harry kept still while Draco gently moved up and down, but when he started to get faster, Harry couldn’t keep his hips from moving. Draco pulled at the ropes binding Harry’s wrists and let him free. Harry ripped off the tie so he could take in the wonderful view of Draco using Harry like that before he pushed himself up and repositioned them so Draco was on his back.  
“Don’t let me hurt you,” Harry said.  
“I don’t think you can,” Draco panted. Harry relaxed and thrusted slowly twice, getting the feel for it. “Come on,” Draco moaned. Harry thrusted faster. “Yes,” Draco sighed. Harry found himself completely obsessed with Draco’s pleasure noises and he pumped faster, egged on by the delight in making him moan. He bent closer to Draco and rubbed against Draco’s cock with his body, using the thrusts and making them longer. Draco grabbed at Harry’s shoulders.

Harry felt himself approaching climax and tried to pull back, unwilling to stop the amazing sensations, but Draco swore and shuddered, and the movement of his body had Harry come too. He pulled out and collapsed heavily on Draco. Draco rearranged himself slightly and then wrapped his arms around Harry. He kissed Harry’s mess of hair and squeezed him.  
“I quite like you, Potter,” he said. Harry made a happy noise, but couldn’t bring himself to reply. He was exhausted.  
“Was that really as good as you made it sound?” Harry asked.   
“Mmhmm, you did great.”  
“Will you do me next time?”  
“We’ll work up to it,” Draco said. “You couldn’t see, but I didn’t just hop on. I’ll show you later.” Harry made another happy noise. He had thought he knew what gay sex was like. He thought it was always one guy taking the other from behind. He was glad to find out that there was still lots for him to learn and that Draco knew what he was doing.


	12. Chapter 12

The week after Christmas passed in a blur. Draco still hadn’t let Harry be bottom, but was working up to it at a painfully slow pace. They talked a lot, and Harry saw the beginnings of a plan to get him and Hermione to be friends without it seeming too weird to everyone else. She didn’t come back until the Sunday before term resumed, so he didn’t get a chance to fill her in, but he knew she would go along with it. 

The seventh years were still Harry’s least favourite class, not least because they were his Monday morning class, but also because he couldn’t escape the awkwardness he felt in lecturing them. At least they seemed to all respect him, and he felt like he had earned it. It still sucked to be opening the term with their class.   
“So, for homework, practice those shield varieties, and next class I will be testing to see if I can jinx you. I’d suggest testing each other first, I will not go easy on you. And Ernie, choose something that isn’t a hat, I could just knock that off your head.”   
They all started packing up, making Harry realise he still didn’t have the control of McGonagall or Snape. They wouldn’t dare touch their bags until they were formally dismissed in those classes. “Granger, Malfoy, you stay behind.”

A few heads turned curiously, but most of them continued to leave. Ernie accidentally dropped a bottle of ink and started to clean it up, very slowly. Harry shook his head at the move he had made before, but addressed his friends.   
“I’ve been talking with the other professors. You’re both on track to receive Outstanding in all of your classes except this one.” He held up a hand to stop their protests. “At this stage, I think it more likely that you would get an Exceeds Expectations. For anyone else, I would say that was amazingly impressive, but the other teachers and I think you could get all O’s with a bit of work and I don’t think I need to tell you how much that would help the school. We need to not only regain trust that this is a safe place, but assure parents that this is still the best school for results.”  
“You say this like we’re not trying,” Draco said. “Professor,” he added. He sounded convincingly petulant.  
“I know you’re trying, but you’re both fairly solitary and I don’t think you can get an O without serious practice. I think you should practice together. You can use my classroom after dinner, I already got McGonagall’s approval. And I’d be here to fix anything that went wrong.  
“Macmillan can I help you with that?” Harry called. Ernie started.   
“My ink spilled.”  
“I can see that. Aren’t you a wizard?” Harry strode over to him. “Evanesco.” Ernie thanked him and rushed out of the room. “We couldn’t have planned that better,” Harry said, turning back to Draco and Hermione

“I take it this is your master plan?” Hermione asked. Harry nodded smugly.  
“So, what are you going to be doing while you’re covering for us?” Draco asked Hermione.   
“I thought I’d watch,” she replied cooly. As Harry had suspected, she had caught up with his intentions immediately. Draco’s face broke into a slow smirk.   
“Ron’s moving to Hogsmeade. She’s going to be sneaking out to him,” Harry said.   
“I’m doing what now?” Hermione asked.   
“He and George have been talking about taking over Zonkos. I don’t think it will take much persuading to get it to happen.”  
“Have you thought about what would happen if McGonagall decides to check up on us? To make sure we’re getting along?”  
“She probably will,” Harry agreed. “But if she can see you’re making progress, it won’t stay a priority for her. She’s stretched pretty thin as it is.”  
“So we’re actually going to be studying together?” Draco asked  
“You going to be able to cope with that?” Hermione’s voice was acidic.  
“Hermione …” Harry cautioned.  
“I don’t hate you,” Draco said quickly. “I don’t even hate your family, it was just important to distance myself from anyone with muggle background.”  
“Why on Earth was it so important?”  
“Hermione!”  
“Because my father has been embezzling money from the muggles for years and doesn’t want the Ministry to think he would even go near them.”

It wasn’t an answer they expected. Harry and Hermione stared at Draco, shocked. “What?” Draco asked. “If I had to tell you every one of father’s schemes, we’d still be sitting here next Christmas.” Hermione frowned. She seemed to be going over everything she knew about the Malfoys to check this new information fit.   
“You guys better get going,” Harry said. “I’ve got another class in five minutes.” Draco blew him a kiss as he left the room. It might have been ironic, but it still made Harry’s chest pound. Hermione glanced back at Harry with a look of alarm, but then Draco said something Harry couldn’t hear and she snorted with laughter unexpectedly. Maybe it wouldn’t take so much for them to become friends. 

*

As suspected, it was easier in theory to get Draco and Hermione to get along. Draco was making an impressive effort, but his humour was too sharp at times and when he left it altogether, Hermione was put off by him ‘sucking up’. Hermione was also using the study sessions to interrogate Draco on the Muggle embezzlement he had mentioned. It was the second Friday in their arrangement, and the three of them were studying in Harry’s classroom, having pushed several desks together. Harry’s marking and the others homework had been somewhat forgotten due to the intensity of the conversation.  
“Our family have been doing it forever,” he said flippantly. “Well before the Statute of Secrecy. Of course we protested it pretty hard when we thought we could change it, because royal Muggles know how to party and I’m pretty sure a few Malfoys were getting knighthoods and such out of them, but then when it was clear the way the law was going, we decided to become so pro-segregation that no one would suspect that we weren’t strictly speaking … complying.   
“It’s not all illegal. It’s actually mostly investments, though I suppose we do have an unfair advantage, and really it’s illegal for them to know we’re wizards. Some of them actually think we’re Muggles too.”

Hermione sighed.   
“You were convincing, I’ll give you that.”   
“I’m really sorry,” he said. “For all of it, the name calling and the songs and the--oh and for telling everyone that I hoped you would be killed in second year.”  
“I’m sorry for breaking your nose,” Hermione said. She was smiling a bit too much for it to seem sincere.   
“When did you break his nose?” Harry asked, bewildered.  
“I’m pretty sure I felt a crack,” Hermione said at the same time as Draco said, “Third year.”  
“Shit Hermione!”  
“I’m also sorry for abusing whatever power I had to get you in trouble. I was aiming for Pott--Harry, but I think you got splashed by some of it.”  
“I think I’m out of apologies,” Hermione said.   
“I’m not! I’m sorry my aunt tortured you and I didn’t stop her--”  
“She would have killed you, I’m sure.” Draco gave her a pained look.   
“I’m sorry I nearly killed your Weasley with that wine--”  
“My Weasley?”  
“I’m sorry I was an arse to all of you for the whole time I knew you and then you had to save me over and over and I--”  
“I think that’s enough,” Harry said, putting his hand gently on Draco’s. Draco stopped staring intensely at Hermione and looked at their hands.  
“I’m really grateful to have a second chance,” he told Harry gently. Hermione was staring, but Harry gave Draco a soft kiss anyway.   
“I’m sorry I never thought you were capable of more than just being a bully,” Harry said. He’d been thinking about that a lot. 

“Right, that’s it,” Hermione said, closing her book with a thud. “It’s Friday night, we’re not studying anyway, you definitely have Firewhiskey, this is all too real, let’s go into your office.” Draco looked at Harry to check that it was okay before closing his book too. The three of them climbed the stairs and Harry went to get the Firewhiskey while Hermione lit the fire and Draco chose the seat on the couch next to her. Harry saw that Hermione seemed to have thawed out a bit. Sometimes things needed to be said, no matter how uncomfortable it was. 

Harry poured them all a healthy splash and was rather surprised when Hermione downed hers in one go and raised her eyebrow for another.   
“So Ron hasn’t owled me all term, despite me finding time every second day to send him a letter,” she said, glaring at the glass in her hand.   
“Dick,” Harry commented helpfully.   
“He’s not exactly the best with words, though, is he?” Draco said, much more reasonably.  
“No, you can’t be on his side. That is exactly not what I need,” Hermione told him.  
“I don’t really get the appeal anyway, he’s super ginger,” said Harry.  
“So’s his sister,” Draco said, smirking slightly.   
“And you don’t even like chess or pranking people,” Harry pointed out.  
“Are you trying to force them apart?” Draco asked incredulously.  
“Nah, it’s a trick. It forces her to defend him.”

Draco eyed Hermione carefully. She had finished her second Firewhiskey but was still glaring at her glass.   
“I don’t know that it’s working,” he said in undertone. “Is it just the owl thing?” he asked Hermione.  
“He’s obviously lost interest in me,” she said, and Harry was startled to see her bottom lip quivering, like she might cry. Draco put his arm around her immediately. Hermione pulled away, looking at him like he’d gone insane.   
“He’s a hugger,” Harry warned. Draco patted Hermione’s knee instead.  
“He can’t have lost interest in you,” he said. “You’re far too interesting.”  
“I think it was his way with words that got me in bed …” Harry mused.   
“I bet things got really intense at work, he’d be doing Auror stuff, right?”  
“Nah, working with George at Wheezes,” Harry said.  
“Working at a joke shop and he can’t be bothered to keep up with his girlfriend? What a tosser. Right, I take back all the other stuff, we need to get him for this.” Draco downed his Firewhiskey and stood up.  
“What, like right now?” Harry asked. Hermione smiled slightly at Harry’s bewildered face. “I actually quite like Ron,” Harry said, in case Draco had forgotten.

Draco had found quill and parchment on Harry’s desk and brought them back to the coffee table. He knelt on the floor and hunched over the parchment seriously.   
“The only good thing about him is that he has so many qualities we can use. Obviously, he’s got ridiculous hair, he works at a joke shop-honestly Harry, you could have told me-and he’s a keeper, they’re always stupid, there’s definitely something there …”  
“He eats like a monster too,” Hermione suggested.   
“Are you writing a poem?” Harry asked, trying to read upside down.  
“A limerick. Hermione can Howler it to him.”  
“You’re writing in rhyme far too easily,” Harry said.   
“I write all the Slytherin chants,” Draco said. “Wrote, I suppose. Merlin, I miss Quidditch.”  
“That’s not how you spell ‘wanker’,” Hermione pointed out.   
“Are you really going to send this?” said Harry  
“Probably not,” Hermione sighed. “He doesn’t have a tiny cock!” she protested.  
“Have you had many others to compare it to?” Draco asked curiously.  
“Fair point, I have no frame of reference at all, I suppose.”  
“He doesn’t have a tiny cock,” Harry said firmly.   
Draco sighed melodramatically.   
“I needed to rhyme ‘head as thick as a rock’, I wasn’t going to say something flattering! Pin that above your bed until he writes you again, and if it’s not a really good letter, send it.”  
Hermione read through it again.  
“You’ve really nice handwriting, almost makes it look nice,” she said.  
“I think my handwriting gets me extra marks from some teachers,” Draco admitted. “Makes me seem smarter than I am, if that’s even possible.”  
“You guys are gonna get O’s, by the way. You’re annoyingly good.”  
“That’s so unethical, telling us that,” Hermione complained.  
“Pretty unethical to be shagging my student, too,” Harry reminded her.  
“Speaking of …” Draco said hopefully.  
“Right, I’ll go,” Hermione said, climbing to her feet. Harry noticed she hadn’t let go of Draco’s limerick.  
“I’d happily invite you in,” Draco said with a smirk. He hadn’t moved from the floor and Harry was itching to go and touch him.  
“And I told you, I don’t need that mental image, thank you!” But Hermione was laughing as she left. 

“You’re amazing,” Harry told Draco, starting to get up.  
“Don’t leave that chair, Professor,” Draco told him sternly. “I’ve been imagining something very specific this last half hour.”


	13. Chapter 13

A letter arrived from Ron the next day, and Hermione wasted no time telling Draco and Harry about it. They sat by the Lake with their cloaks close around them to protect from the snow, eating toast and debating whether it was a good enough letter to justify there being no letters for two weeks.   
“Well, like you said, he’s not exactly good with words,” Hermione was saying.   
“But ‘busy with work’ is such a shit excuse!” Draco protested.   
“But busy with anything is something to be encouraged with Ron,” said Harry. “He’s really quite passionate about his work.”  
“His work involves stocking whoopee cushions.”  
“You’ve already forgiven him, haven’t you?” Harry had been watching Hermione read the letter for the umpteenth time. She nodded. Draco flopped onto his back, exasperated.   
“You’d forgive me, wouldn’t you?” Harry asked.  
“Nope. But it doesn’t matter because you’re so obsessed with me you’d never let two weeks go without talking to me.”  
“I’m not obsessed!”  
Hermione looked up over her letter with raised eyebrows. “Anyway, I’m sure I can’t hold onto this level of …” Harry searched for a word that wasn’t obsession. The only one that came close was ‘love’ and he wasn’t saying that for the first time with Hermione and the giant squid there to see Draco react.   
“Obsession,” Hermione filled in.   
“Fine. I’m pretty sure people only stay obsessed for the first bit. You’ll be ordinary, soon enough.”

Draco pondered that.  
“You’ve been obsessed with me for over six years, do you really think it’s going to stop because we have sex now? Like if you had just gotten me out of your system you could have thought about me rationally?”  
“You really are frightfully arrogant,” Hermione told him. “But he’s also right, Harry.”  
“I know that,” Harry sulked.   
“He’s grumpy because he thinks it’s hot when I’m arrogant but he doesn’t want to reward my arrogance by letting me know that,” Draco said. Harry didn’t bother protesting.   
“Right, well I’m going to the library to write a reply. Do you think I should try and reward letter-writing or punish the delay?”  
“Reward. Positive reinforcement has been proven to work so much better. Plus, if you tell him you’re grateful for the letter he’ll feel guilty that he has such an easy way of making you happy and he’s been neglecting it.” Draco was smirking in a slightly evil way that made Harry wonder if he’d had any behaviours positively reinforced.   
Hermione nodded and grinned at Harry in a way that said he absolutely had been positively reinforced. She waved over the back of her head as she walked away.

“Now what do we do with ourselves now that Hermione isn’t around?” Harry asked.  
“I’m not hanging out with my teacher, if that’s what you’re asking. I was only here for her.” Draco smirked and leapt to his feet. Harry groaned and fell to the ground. “I’m going to catch up with Slughorn, we’re studying healing potions at the moment and they’re bloody fiddly.” Draco brushed snow from his hair and cloak. It was that kind of thick snow that was somehow dry, but Harry still sat up from his dramatic flop to stop it from melting in his hair. “You need to mark our last essay on shield charms too,” Draco said. He was constantly on Harry to grade their homework quicker. Harry thought he was doing a pretty good job, considering. Draco held out his hand to help Harry up and Harry took it, managing to keep himself at a casual distance despite his urge to use the motion to fall into a kiss. Not many people would come out this way during the winter, but it paid to be extra careful. 

Harry and Draco walked back to the castle in silence, but coming into the entrance hall Harry was accosted by one of his second year students who reminded him forcefully of Hermione at her worst, so Draco left without him. Harry answered her questions on the cushioning charm he was making sure all year levels knew; he was trying to encourage students to work in teams more than traditional because his education had focussed a lot on duelling and seemed to assume you would never have a friendly wizard on your side in real life. In his experience, a well placed cushioning charm could save pretty extreme injury. Poor Sally didn’t really have any friends, because being good at magic didn’t mean being good at being friendly.  
“You just need to relax a bit, Sally,” Harry found him saying for the second time that conversation and maybe the thousandth time since meeting the girl.   
“Why do people keep saying that?” she cried.  
“You can’t get through every problem by sheer force of will,” he said.  
“You did,” she said stubbornly. “Tell me one time that relaxing made you a better wizard.”  
Harry sighed and dragged his hand over his face.   
“If I hadn’t been able to switch off every now and then I would have lost my mind. Don’t forget I had the founders of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes in my house almost my entire time at Hogwarts.”  
“Some people find that stuff fun, but I don’t.”  
“You don’t have to find the same stuff fun as everybody else, but you’ll probably have more fun if you give silly stuff a chance.”  
Sally looked at him skeptically.   
“Look, next class I’m going to be teaching the tickling curse. If you don’t feel happier after an hour of laughing, you tell me and I’ll let it go. But if you do, you have to do a really silly prank on someone.”  
Sally continued to look at him skeptically. Harry smiled and left before she could think of another question. Even though she was a Ravenclaw and their house valued brains, she was still an outsider, and it seemed to baffle her. 

Harry was stopped again on the third floor by three students from fourth year who had taken it as their personal challenge to disarm him at some point, which Harry was encouraging so long as Filch was nowhere near to tell them off for casting spells in the corridors. Harry saw Jane’s long hair flick around the corner and silently deflected the charm from the other side, before casting a quick Expelliarmus himself. He grabbed the wand before it could knock to the floor, shot a Tarantallegra at Jane, forcing her into a comical tapdance and, unable to think of a more amusing jinx, shot Levicorpus at the last one. Luckily that had hit Doug, who was wearing jeans under his robes like a lot of the Muggleborn students did. Doug had managed to cross his arms over his chest and was trying to look severe, despite being upside down. 

Harry smiled and applied the appropriate counter-jinxes and handed Scott back his wand.   
“We’ll get you one day,” Scott said defiantly.   
“And learn a lot of interesting jinxes in the meantime, I’m sure,” Harry replied. He liked this trio, they reminded him a lot of his own friends, except that Jane and Scott were in Hufflepuff and Doug was in Gryffindor, and he hadn’t seen enough mingling in his time. It probably made him go a bit too easy on them when it came to their grades, and surely McGonagall would have a fit if she knew he was encouraging them to attack him whenever they saw him, but he loved that they weren’t intimidated by him. 

They started to walk away, and Doug pulled the other two close to him so that they could whisper together, no doubt plotting their next attack. Harry decided to take his marking to the library. He hadn’t had the confidence to be so in public earlier in the school year, but things were undoubtedly getting better. He decided to focus on the seventh years essays, telling himself that he prioritised them again and again because they were heading into NEWTs, not because Draco insisted. 

Harry chose a seat at one of the central tables, and a small group of first years sat down at the other end of the table, whispering in those loud stage-whispers 11 year olds thought were quiet.   
“Don’t be stupid, Alcatraz is for Muggles,” one was saying. That was Jean, a Gryffindor.  
“You mean Azkaban,” another said impatiently. Clarence was also Gryffindor, much to the surprise of his family that had generations of Slytherins behind him.   
“Yes, that then. They closed it last year, right? Well my aunty works at The Prophet-no, it’s relevant, I swear!-” That was Charlie, a Ravenclaw. He did mention his aunty at the Daily Prophet an awful lot, apparently not bothered by the dwindling readership. “She says they’re reopening it!”  
Harry kept his eyes fixed on the paper he was marking. Setting up shield charms in advance. Definitely could be on the NEWT. He had to focus on this path, not regret whatever he might have been doing with the stupid Ministry.  
“Professor!” Charlie called. “Do you know if they’re reopening Azkaban?” There was five first years all looking at him as if he should know the answer.   
“I haven’t heard anything, Charlie, but I would be pretty surprised if they did. I had hoped we had moved past that place.”  
“Have you been?” Nellie asked, deeply impressed.   
“I managed to avoid it,” Harry said, attempting a grin. “I know people that have been though, and I’ve seen enough of the Dementors to last me forever.”  
“They’re the guards,” Clarence said knowledgeably. “My dad had to fight one once, shot silver at it and it went away.”

Harry smiled and told them he was going back to his office for more homework, even though he hadn’t even finished the first essay. None of them noticed if his smile was perhaps a bit more brittle than it usually was. Once out of the library, Harry vanished the parchment to his desk and made his way to McGonagall’s office. Gone were the days where he could just burst into Shacklebolt’s office and demand to know what was going on.


	14. Chapter 14

The Headmistresses office always reminded Harry forcibly of Dumbledore, but McGonagall had made it her own space. The shelves had always been packed with books and mysterious objects, and most of them were still there, but the desk was different, and in the area that had once been an observatory, there was now a very comfortable lounge set. It was here that McGonagall had more casual meetings, away from the formality of the desk. The past headmasters and headmistresses snoozed in their frames below, and McGonagall served tea herself.  
“The thing is--” Harry started. McGonagall gave him a sharp look and he fell silent. He wasn’t supposed to speak until the tea was brewed. He recited the 12 uses of dragons blood in his mind to keep himself from fidgeting.   
“I’m tempted to insist we do small talk first, but I think you might explode if you don’t get to the point immediately.”  
Harry had the decency to look a bit sheepish at that, but he didn’t deny it.   
“I’ve just come from the library, and Charlie Skinner was just talking about Azkaban. His aunt works at The Daily Prophet, and she’s told him or he’s overheard that Azkaban is reopening.”  
McGonagall sipped her tea thoughtfully.   
“I can’t say I’m terribly surprised,” she said.   
“I am!” Harry blurted.  
McGonagall raised an eyebrow at him. “Sorry,” he said. “Go on.”  
“We’ve been using Azkaban for the last several hundred years, almost since the inception of the Ministry itself. It’s difficult for wizards, especially Ministry wizards, to change. I know Shacklebolt’s a good sort, but while he’s certainly got some power, he’s not the only man in the building. The fact that Azkaban has been closed so long is an incredible step in the right direction.”  
“It’s not good enough! Merlin, I ask for one thing after the war, one thing!”  
“I imagine you would like to have a word with the Minister?”

Harry rubbed at his temples, thinking.   
“If it’s not up to Shacklebolt, will that do any good?”  
“Perhaps not. On the other hand, everyone knows you were the one to push for its closing, so I imagine you will be approached for comment. It would have been considerate of him to warn you.”  
“I don’t want to throw around my name, but I really care about this. What would Dumbledore do?”  
“Ah, isn’t that the question?” 

They sat in silence for a bit, drinking tea.   
“Do you talk to his portrait much?” Harry asked eventually.  
“Actually, I talk with Severus more. He is more uniquely able to sympathise with following in the footsteps of Albus Dumbledore. And we were quite close before … everything.” McGonagall sighed. “But neither of them talk unless they want to. Most of the portraits feign sleep even when it’s just me. I suppose everyone has to go their own way eventually, no matter who they have to talk to.”  
“I feel very old and very young sometimes. Does that make sense?” Harry said.  
“Yes, I remember feeling like that. Not because I was in the spotlight, or because I defeated evil, but because I once had to make the choice between magic and love, and it very nearly ruined me. I thought I would probably find another love but would never be able to replace magic. I would probably still make that choice now, but …” She sighed again. “I felt that I had made a very mature choice, one that aged me horribly, but also that I wished to be selfish and child-like again. I was working for the Ministry at the time, but I couldn’t keep going after that. So I came home, to Hogwarts, where I could at least use my magic every day, in new and better ways, to really appreciate the choice I made.”  
“That sounds harder than what I did, to be honest.”  
“Your father was a shameless flatterer as well, though I think Mr Black put him up to it.”  
“No, I’m serious, back in the Triwizard Tournament, asking a girl out was the hardest task of all, closely followed by dancing, and then after those two was facing Voldemort, which wasn’t a task, then the mermaids, dragon, whatever. And I’d rather duel almost anyone than have to break up with Ginny again.”  
“I didn’t realise you had, though there’s a reason so few of us professors have successful dating lives. It’s the curse of living so isolated, and no one quite understands the bonds we have to the school and the people in it. Was it horrible?”  
“Nope. She took it really well, because she’s Ginny. She’s gonna be the best chaser the Hollyhead Harpies have ever had.”  
“Good.” McGonagall sounded fiercely proud.  
“Who was your … love? If you don’t mind me asking.”  
“A Muggle. Dougal, his name was. Just a farmer’s boy, but he could sing. I can’t really remember his face anymore, but this song … I Love a Lassie, it was called, very Scottish, very beautiful. My father was a Muggle, you see, and my mother gave up her magic to be with him, as one often has to in those situations. Wizards live next to Muggles all the time with no problem, but when your in-laws could come in at any moment, you can’t exactly have the knitting doing itself, or what have you.”  
“I can’t imagine Mrs Weasley being able to have Muggles over.”  
“Exactly. And you’re right, I’d rather be stunned four times in the chest than have to break Dougal’s heart a second time.”  
Harry smiled sadly.  
“Did Sirius really put my dad up to flattering you?” he asked, changing the subject.   
“I thought he would have told you about it. You know, I assume, that your father was enamoured with your mother from the beginning. He asked her out at least once a month for his entire school career, until she said yes. And without fail, the day after he asked her out, he would ask me. Publically. Once, he and Mr Black, Mr Lupin and Mr Pettigrew sang a song over breakfast. I actually made them take a picture, I have it somewhere. They were dressed as a Muggle band.  
“I probably am not the best person to tell you stories from them at Hogwarts, seeing as your father’s gang was frequently trying to elude me, and I couldn’t risk giving you ideas while you were a student, but …”  
“I wish I had one of them to tell me about it, but if you don’t mind me taking up your time …”  
“It would be my pleasure. But another time. Do you want me to help you think of a way to confront Shacklebolt?”  
“I might just pop in, have a conversation. It could just be a rumour, after all.”  
“I hope it is. Try to keep a cool head.”  
“Don’t I always?” Harry teased.  
“I don’t give praise where it isn’t earned, but you have done wonderfully this year. Remus would be very proud, I know he inspired you. Even seeing you in your fifth year, we wouldn’t have been able to predict that you would rise so naturally to the pressures of teaching.”  
“Maybe I should pretend Shacklebolt’s one of my students.”  
McGonagall smiled. They weren’t so rare now that he was a staff member, but he still felt proud every time she looked happy with him. She walked him to the door, and Harry gave a wave to the portraits of Dumbledore and Snape. Dumbledore waved back, Snape didn’t bother.


	15. Chapter 15

Harry had to use his office Floo to get to Grimmauld Place and then take that Floo to the MInistry, because connections to the Ministry were generally only for employees and members of committees, that kind of thing. But when he got to Grimmauld place, he couldn’t get through to the Ministry. 

 

Harry swore fiercely and leaned on his mantle, contemplating his next move. Clearly he would have to use the visitor’s entrance, but would he even be allowed to speak to Shacklebolt today? Maybe he should owl first. Maybe he should wait to see what The Prophet said. He swore some more, just to get it out of his system. No, he wasn’t going to be sneaky or political, it just wasn’t his style. He straightened and then Disapparated to Diagon Alley. It was only a ten minute walk from there to the Ministry, and he wasn’t comfortable Apparating into a busy Muggle street. He made the walk in just over five minutes, his frustration making him walk quickly. Something in his expression had people dodging out of his way. 

 

Harry entered the phone booth and dialed 62442.

“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.”

“Harry Potter, I want to speak with Kingsley Shacklebolt.”

The badge that came from the coin return read simply ‘Complaints’, and he gave it a dry smile. The operator said the rest of her bit and the booth glided down. Harry went through the motions of surrendering his wand and being guided to the Minister’s office with as much grace as he could. The welcome witch was one he had had before, and she seemed to be making an effort to be friendly that he took at face value until she gave him a very pointed looking over before turning to Shacklebolt’s secretary to let her know Harry was there to see the Minister. 

“Oh, Harry, hi,” she said. Harry had glanced at her desk behind the welcome witch’s back so was able to use her name. 

“Been a while, hey Robin?” he said with a smile. 

“I’ll take your word for it, the days all seem to mash together here,” she said with a long-suffering sigh. “I’ll let him know you’re here, but I haven’t got great hopes, he’s up to his eyeballs at the moment.” She heaved herself up from the desk and into Shacklebolt’s office. Her words were cut off the instant the door closed, an enchantment on much of the offices in the Ministry. They were in there long enough that Harry took a seat and twirled his wand around in lazy circles. 

 

When Robin exited the office, Harry sat up quite straight. 

“Sorry about the wait, Mr Potter,” she said. Harry frowned, wondering what he’d done to make Shacklebolt’s secretary lose first name terms with him so abruptly.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, rising to his feet. She shook her head subtly, eyes wide.

“Nothing whatsoever. I mentioned the Minister is rather busy at the moment, I’m afraid he won’t be able to see you today.” Harry got the impression the Minister was currently busy listening on the other side of the door.

“I suppose that means you’re too busy for me as well,” he said, giving her a gentle smile. After the war, he’d been photographed countless times, and that look had got him in the running for Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile. Naturally, he’d lost, but a fair few witches had written him telling him that it was the biggest miscarriage of justice they’d ever seen. The irony of saying that had made Ron tease him for weeks. Draco told him frankly that the Quidditch player that won had deserved it, but not to take it personally because Draco would still choose him over a handsome Quidditch player, any day.

“Yes, but don’t take it personally, I’m too busy for anyone.” Robin said. She looked relieved that he hadn’t pressed her. 

“I really didn’t need the Minister for anything important, but it would be a shame to come all this way for nothing. Any chance I could take you out for lunch?”

“I’m too busy,” she insisted, but without any force. “And besides, I’m just a secretary, I’m not anything special.”

Harry leaned forward over her desk. 

“You’re very special,” he told her. Robin just stared at him for a solid minute before shaking herself.

“You’re very young, and very famous,” she told him.

“Are you trying to flatter me, Robin?” he asked.

“I’ll walk you back to the Atrium, but I’m not having lunch with you,” she said, faux-sternly. 

Harry clutched his heart in mock-wound but grinned and followed her to the lift. 

 

Once they were inside, Harry thought about how far he was willing to go to find out what was going on. He didn’t like the idea of hurting an innocent woman to get political advantage at all. But she didn’t make him.

“Thanks for not pushing it back there, he told me I had to get you to leave and make it clear you couldn’t just come in and change policy whenever you liked anymore. Is that really what you were doing over the summer?”

“Only when it came to Azkaban,” Harry said mildly. Her reaction was immediate. She stiffened and stared fixedly at the lift doors. That was a big enough answer for Harry. Obviously, the rumour was well-founded. 

“This all makes so much more sense now. But it’s worth more than my job to talk about this to someone outside the Ministry.” Robin pulled at her hair nervously. Finally, she said, “I’m really glad you’re not being all slimy and manipulative though, I thought you were better than that.” She smiled shyly at him, a complete turn-around. She was going to give him whip-lash with these abrupt changes. The lift opened at the Atrium. “I’m still not coming to lunch with you though,” she insisted, but in a very teasing way. 

“I wouldn’t want to give you back after an hour anyway,” Harry said. She lead him to the Apparation point slowly and he kept perhaps a bit too close to her as they walked. “How about dinner?”

“Don’t you have to get back to Hogwarts?” she said.

“Not until tomorrow.” Harry managed not to blush at the implication there. He smiled the gentle smile again, trying to look a bit shy and very interested. It wasn’t too hard, she was quite attractive. 

“Alright.” She grabbed his hand and tapped it with her wand. A tidy address appeared in ink. “Pick me up at 7?” she asked. 

“I’ll be there.” Harry ignored the slightly squeamish feeling that came with seeing words on his hand and smiled and then Disapparated back to Grimmauld Place. He had half a day to figure out his approach, but first he had to talk to Draco.


	16. Chapter 16

Draco was waiting for Harry in his office, at the cauldron again. Just the sight of that was enough to tempt Harry into forgetting everything and taking Draco on the bed, but Draco wasn’t making anything for them, he was practicing for his NEWTs.   
“Don’t talk to me, I’m counting stirs,” he said before Harry could say anything. Harry rolled his eyes, but went to his bedroom to pick a suitable Muggle outfit for the date. There were plenty of nice restaurants exclusive to wizards, but Witch Weekly was ridiculously invested in Harry’s dating life, and they couldn’t get away with their ridiculous camera equipment around Muggles. 

Harry jumped as Draco snuck up behind him and wrapped his arms around him.   
“I thought you were concentrating,” Harry said, leaning back into the embrace.   
“I’m trying to get the start perfect, no point continuing with it until I do. Besides, you’re contemplating fashion and you’re horrible at that.”  
“Mmm, you do it instead.”  
Draco pushed Harry away so he could flick through his hangers.   
“I take it you won’t be wearing robes if you’re actually paying attention to what’s underneath,” Draco mused.   
“Yeah, Muggle restaurant,” Harry said, flopping on his bed.   
“Casual? Fancy? Give me something,” Draco said.  
“Should probably be fancy,” Harry sighed. “Should probably look like I’m on a date.”  
“Is this your way of asking me out?” Draco teased, now holding a shirt up to various pants.   
“I wish. I’m trying to get information out of Shacklebolt’s assistant.” Harry eyed Draco carefully, watching for a reaction.   
“Robin Shaw?” Draco asked.  
“Definately Robin, couldn’t tell you her last name.”  
“You’re hopeless. How can you expect to know anything if you don’t bother to learn the most basic information?”  
“I know all my students names, that’s most of the school, my memory’s full!”  
“I have known the names of all the students here since Christmas first year. And I still could tell you where most of them are, though I’ve lost track of some.”  
“Alright genius, will you help me?” Harry felt a bit overwhelmed now. He was not cut out for politics. Draco would be much better at this than him.   
“Of course. Tell me what you do know and what you want to get out of this.”

Harry was reluctant to bring up Azkaban with Draco, but he needed his help.  
“I heard a rumour from Charlie Skinner, who had it from his aunt, that Azkaban is reopening.”  
“Flo Skinner, one of the better reporters at The Prophet, annoyingly thorough but willing to accept a tip. She follows up though, so if she said something, it isn’t just something she overheard in a pub, she validates things.”  
“Okay, not joking about knowing people, were you?”  
Draco just gave him a look.   
“Right, so I went to the Ministry today, to just talk to Shacklebolt, see what the go is, and he wouldn’t see me. So I … well I flirted with Robin, and she was acting like the wall had eyes and ears but she was, um ... responsive, so I asked her out to dinner and she said yes and I reckon she’ll talk.”  
“I would very much like to see you try and seduce information out of someone,” Draco said. He’d chosen clothes for him and hung them on the cupboard door. He came and sat on the bed with Harry and slowly stroked his thigh.  
“Don’t distract me,” Harry said. “Robin seems like the kind of person who would just tell me what is going on, but I don’t want to rely on that. Shacklebolt was a key member of the Order and seemed the kind to keep his word, so I’m feeling pretty disillusioned at the moment.”  
“Yes, I can imagine you would be,” Draco said. He stopped stroking Harry’s thigh and laid on the bed next to him. “So, you’re taking Robin out to dinner because …?”  
“I want to know if Azkaban is really reopening.” Harry said.  
“It sounds like you already know that,” Draco said.   
“Yes, but I want to know why. And why Shacklebolt’s avoiding me. And who has convinced him to do it.”  
“Alright, come with me.” Draco took Harry back to the lounge and transfigured their armchairs and coffee table into a small dinner table and chairs. 

When they were seated opposite one another, Draco fixed Harry with a sly smile.  
“Do your worst,” he said.  
“What, am I pretending you’re Robin?” Harry said.  
“Sets a good precedent, I’ll be less jealous if I think you’ll be pretending she’s me when you’re flirting with her.”  
Harry smiled.  
“So, do you enjoy working at the Ministry?” he said.  
“Really? Have a bit of creativity, Potter.”  
“I don’t know anything about her!” Harry protested.  
“She graduated when we were in third year, got NEWTs in Defence, Creatures and Transfiguration. She was Ravenclaw’s Seeker until fifth year, our first, she couldn’t hack OWLs and Quidditch. You didn’t play against her, she flattened Gryffindor because you were in the hospital wing, caught the snitch when Towler was at the other end looking at Merlin knows what. Wood didn’t give the reserve team a seconds thought, typical Gryffindor arrogance, which was particularly stupid seeing as Gryffindors are 18% more likely to end up in the hospital wing than any other house.”  
“Right, so I could talk about Quidditch?”  
“You could, though her team is the Harpies, and that will bring up the Weasley thing.”  
“If I had more time I’d get Ginny to send me something,” Harry said.  
“She’d do that?” Draco sounded impressed. “And here I was thinking you were the kind to burn bridges.”  
“What else?”  
“She was a model student, but in my experience that means she would love to hear about you being a troublemaker.”  
“I wasn’t a troublemaker! I was saving the world!”  
“Is that what you were doing when you snuck out to duel me? Or smuggled a dragon through the school? Or sneaking into Hogsmeade? Merlin, how much sneaking was there?”  
“Uh, yes. Lots of sneaking.”

Draco smirked at Harry.  
“What are you thinking?”  
“Just that your sneaking could have been put to better use,” Draco said.  
“You’re not helping me stay focussed,” Harry said.  
“I could help you get your hair to that just-shagged look instead?”  
Harry grinned and waved the furniture away as they stood. They collided, kissing roughly. While teaching had always just made their sex better, making it feel forbidden, since they had started hanging out with Hermione they had gotten rather good at being in the same room without immediately going to town on one another. Draco gripped Harry’s neck with force and pushed him to the wall.   
“We don’t have a lot of time,” Harry said when Draco released his mouth to suck on his neck.   
“I won’t make you late,” Draco promised. He nipped at Harry’s collarbone in such a way that made Harry accidentally banish both their clothes. “You need to stop doing that,” Draco groaned. “I really quite like my clothes.”

Harry tried to feel guilty, but Draco was pressing up against him in a way that made it impossible to feel anything except hard. Harry squirmed against Draco and dragged his hands down his back, pressing firmly in a way that was almost a massage. Draco leaned into it, and then slid down to his knees, kissing as he went. Harry threaded his fingers in Draco’s hair, luxuriating in the feel. Draco generally took his time, but true to his promise, he didn’t tease him, instead taking Harry in his mouth as soon as he reached it and gliding down until he had him down to his base. He glided up again and caught his breath before sucking again quickly once, twice and a third time. Draco grabbed at Harry’s arse and took him slowly and deeply. Harry tried to find something to grip onto on the wall, but of course there was nothing. Draco dragged his hands to Harry’s cock and held it as he bobbed. He gripped him firmly and cupped his balls as he sucked mercilessly. It didn’t take long for Harry to come.  
“You’re fucking amazing,” Harry told him. “Give me a second.”  
“No,” Draco said. “I’ll be waiting for you tonight.”   
Harry groaned. Draco stood up and ruffled Harry’s hair. “Got to give you sex hair. Oh Merlin, you look hot like this. Don’t keep me waiting too long, alright?”


	17. Chapter 17

Robin’s address was in a lovely area of London. Central, but not too urban, one of those odd little pockets where the houses had backyards. Harry was starting to think that all the best real estate belonged to wizards. Certainly the Malfoys had used a bit of subtle magic to get their hands on property at rather cheap prices, relatively speaking. And Harry already knew that Grimmauld Place had once belonged to Muggles, though most Blacks preferred to imagine that it was magicked from beginning to end. Perhaps they thought it was okay so long as they were taking advantage of the Muggles, not treating them like equals. 

 

Harry had Apparated a five minute walk away from Robin’s out of politeness, so he had plenty of opportunity to admire the neighbourhood. He arrived a couple of minutes before 7, so leaned against the low brick wall outside her townhouse, not wanting to rush her if she wasn’t ready. He turned when he heard the door open.

“You look lovely,” he said. She did. Her blonde hair was usually a bit wild, presumably because she never stopped running her fingers through it as she worked, but was now glossy and straight, and she had rather pink lipstick on. Harry had thought he prefered a more natural look, but the pink suited Robin. She wore a plain black dress and dangly silver earrings.

“So do you,” she said, and Harry tried not to be offended that she sounded surprised. He held out his arm and she took it. “I don’t mean to imply you don’t usually look nice,” she said, correctly interpreting his thoughts. “It’s just, from seeing you in the Ministry, I almost thought you didn’t own anything other than those faded blue jeans.”

Harry blushed.

“I’ve been told I rely on them a bit much.”

“It’s fine, really, they make your bum look great.” Robin laughed when Harry blushed again. “But it’s nice to see you make some effort.”

“You should see me in my Quidditch gear,” he teased.

“I already have,” she said.

“Oh sure, but not since I was, what, 13? I mean, I know I’m still a Seeker, but I flatter myself that I can fill it out a bit more now.”

Talk of Hogwarts Quidditch took them to the restaurant Harry had booked, which Robin was suitably impressed by. Harry had made sure to change rather more Galleons to Muggle money than he was likely to need, knowing that it was a bit fancy. He pulled out her chair for her automatically, having been raised by the Dursleys who seemed to think that manners could make up for almost any defect, except magic of course.

 

A waiter came and asked them if they would like wine.

“Do you have a preference?” Harry asked. Robin shook her head.

“Whatever you recommend,” Harry said, not willing to test if he had taken in anything useful from Draco’s lectures.

“You know we’ll be getting the most expensive bottle now, don’t you?” Robin said when the waiter left. 

“I don’t mean to show off,” Harry said, suddenly worried. 

“It’s fine!” Robin said quickly. 

Harry smiled, unable to think of a response. They read their menus quietly for a few minutes.

“I don’t know what’s good here,” Harry said apologetically. “A friend told me they heard it was good, but he’d never been himself, so …

“Anyway, how was your day? I didn’t cause any trouble, did I?” 

“No,” Robin said with an easy smile. “I can handle much worse than Shacklebolt. I worked with Thicknesse. He was brilliant when he first made department head, but … I mean they say he was Imperiused, which makes sense because he was sometimes the same efficient guy, but other times he was just … weird. Like staring blankly at things and being forgetful, or being really angry. It wasn’t a very nice time, really.”

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that,” Harry said. 

“You had it worse, though, didn’t you?”

“I suppose. But I think if we start competing about who had it worse, it only ends with everyone feeling shit. Better just to say we both had it rough and try to move on.”

 

Robin looked at Harry thoughtfully.

“You could be a politician, you know. He’s right to be wary of you. You speak well.”

“That’s not me,” Harry said. “I only speak well because I’ve always had to be a bit careful. Especially now that I’m a teacher. And being me, my words have more weight.”

Robin didn’t look convinced.

“Seriously, I’ve done okay so far, but I’ve seen what power does to people. I’d rather leave it to the people who know what they’re doing.”

“Except when it comes to Azkaban,” Robin said pointedly.

“Well yeah, just because I don’t want to be Minister for Magic, that doesn’t mean that I can’t occasionally use my power to help change the world for the better, does it?”

“You want to be like Dumbledore,” Robin said. 

“Yes.” Harry said. “Well, I want to be me. But yeah, I can think of worse things to be than like him.”

 

A waiter came while Harry was letting Robin digest that and they both ordered, a bit relieved at the diversion. 

“I don’t want to put you in an awkward position,” Harry said. 

“Yes you do,” Robin said. “You just want me not to mind.”

Harry smiled guiltily. 

“Okay,  _ fine _ . People are hurting, Harry. And their whole lives, if someone does something wrong, they go to Azkaban. And yeah, there were some really bad criminals in that time, but even the  _ just pretty bad _ criminals went to Azkaban too. And now we have these people, the  _ worst _ criminals, like Fenrir Greyback, Merlin, Harry, Fenrir Greyback survived the war and half my family didn’t and now you don’t want to put that monster in Azkaban?”

 

Harry let Robin catch her breath before speaking, trying to keep his voice calm and friendly, despite the words. 

“Fenrir Greyback is a monster. He probably will always be a monster. Going to Azkaban won’t stop that, nor will going to a different prison, nor will executing him. Nothing will. But by putting him in Azkaban, we are saying that it doesn’t matter what happens to him so long as he’s punished. We don’t want him to recover and be a positive member of our community, we don’t want to get rid of him so that he can no longer hurt people, we want him to suffer.

“Which I get! Honestly, Robin, I get that. I probably have more reason to hate him than most, he bit a good friend of mine when he was just a child. He mauled another friend of mine. More than just one, actually. He captured me and my friends at one point and he was practically salivating at the thought of eating us alive, while he was still human, if human is the correct word for what he is.

“So yeah, I’d love for him to suffer. But that doesn’t make it  _ right. _ And not only would putting him in Azkaban not serve any purpose, it would also be us  _ using Dementors _ , who we  _ cannot _ trust. Voldemort proved that they don’t have a proper alliance with us, we can’t keep feeding them on purpose. We can’t let the next dark wizard know there’s an island out there that houses our worst criminals and our worst creatures all in one place, just waiting to be recruited. It’s madness.”

 

“Have you said this to Shacklebolt?” Robin asked.

“Not in so many words. I told him that last bit about Dementors just waiting for the moment when they can serve the next Voldemort.”

“That’s the bit that he’s found a solution to. Or thinks he has. I can’t tell you anything specific, just that someone has told him they can control the Dementors. If he thinks that’s all you’ve got against the place, he thinks he’s in the right.”

 

Their dinner arrived and they ate in silence for a bit. Harry found that despite his preoccupation, the food was still amazing, maybe even worth what he paid for it. He’d have to tell the waiter how much he’d enjoyed it. 

“Have you been?” Robin asked. Harry didn’t have to ask her where she meant.

“No. But my godfather was prisoner for 12 years and if he hadn’t been able to cling to the thought that he was innocent, it would have ruined him. Even so, it aged him. I can’t really describe what it did to him, it was just awful. And you remember when Hagrid got sent there for a couple weeks, right? It was the worst thing he ever did. And Hagrid’s better with Dementors than most, being half giant.”

“I don’t think I can get Shacklebolt to meet you, even knowing that you’re making sense. I think he might fire me if I push it too hard.” Robin said.   
“I don’t want you to get fired,” Harry said. “Maybe I should do an interview, make my opinion clear without making it out like I’m directly opposing him.”

“But you are,” Robin said. 

“But if I do the interview before the news breaks, I can praise him for being the one to stop Azkaban, phrase it that way, still be on his side,” Harry said desperately. 

Robin just smiled at Harry sadly, like he was being incredibly naive. 


	18. Chapter 18

Harry found out why Robin had been skeptical of Harry avoiding confrontation with Shacklebolt the next Monday. 

 

MINISTER REVIEWING AZKABAN CLOSURE read the headline of The Daily Prophet. The Quibbler said, AZKABAN REOPENING? Harry made a note to get Luna to tell him when such headlines were coming up. She had taken the year off, but hoped to come back to Hogwarts in September. She wanted to spend some time with her dad, enjoying a more positive world.

 

Harry read both articles thoroughly and was unsurprised when neither mentioned that it was him that pushed for Azkaban to be closed in the first place. The Prophet clearly saw Azkaban reopening as a good thing, but The Quibbler was more balanced. 

 

_ Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, has announced that he has been in talks with Unspeakables about binding Dementors more firmly to Azkaban. Those that stray would dissolve automatically, preventing the kinds of outbreaks that have plagued the prison over the last decade. This news comes as a relief to the Wizengamot, who have been unable to find a satisfactory replacement for Azkaban following the war.  _

 

Harry had to be nudged by Neville before he realised that the Great Hall was mostly empty and hurried to class. He wondered for the millionth time whether he hated Mondays because he had to take the seventh years or if he hated the seventh years because he had to take them every Monday morning. He said as much to Neville who grimaced.

“I take them on Wednesdays and I hate them too,” he said, too quietly to be overheard. “It doesn’t seem to matter that I helped last year, they still look at me like they can’t believe I have the nerve to teach them.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Harry said.

“Yeah, well, I suppose I should be happy Sprout is letting me teach them at all. It’s pretty rare for a first year assistant to take NEWT level classes.”

“We ignoring the fact that I haven’t even done my teaching qualifications and I’m about to go into a room full of surly NEWT students?”

“I think that would be best, yes.”

Harry and Neville smiled at each other and parted, Harry for his class and Neville for the greenhouses. Neville didn’t even have a class first thing on a Monday, through some fluke of scheduling. Harry let go of his jealousy for that and found a calm space in his mind, refusing to get riled up before he’d even got to class.

 

Hermione ambushed him the second he walked in the door.

“Harry--I mean Professor Potter, what is going on with Azkaban?” she demanded. The rest of the class was silent, something Harry had never been able to accomplish entirely. Even if no one was talking, someone was always rocking on their chair or fidgeting with a quill. He made his way up to the front of the class, a bit shocked from it.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked cautiously.

“It’s all over the news!” Hermione said. “Are they really going to reopen it?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “If you could take your seat, Hermione, today we’re looking at the theory behind the Wolfsbane potion.”

Hermione didn’t sit down.

“They can’t just reopen it and have everything go back to the way it was!” she said.

“My mum was put in Azkaban last year and she’s still not right!” That was Susan Bones, whose mother was Muggle-born.

“My grandfather escaped with all the Death Eaters, but he was never  _ guilty _ , they didn’t even give him a trial and he  _ killed _ himself because he couldn’t  _ cope _ !”

“My dad  _ is _ guilty but I’d rather he be executed than go back.” That was Draco. There was an awkward pause.

“I’d rather die than go there, that’s for sure,” Ernie said.

“So, what do we do?” said Hermione. They were all looking at Harry again. 

 

“This really isn’t my department,” Harry protested.

“You’re the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher!” Ernie said.

“You petitioned to have it closed in the first place!” Hermione said.

Harry raised his hands, stopping the class from protesting more. Voices were getting a bit shrill all round, for Harry’s taste.

“It’s a bit inappropriate for me to comment, you know?” he said.

“That’s a bit rich, coming from you,” Draco said. “Seeing as--”

“See the thing you have to know about Azkaban, is that--” Harry said.

“Wait, what was Draco saying?”

“Just that he’s never held back shouting his head off about the first bloody political issue to wander into his bespectacled, bescarred, debrained head.”

“Merlin and Morgana on a flying carpet,” Harry muttered to the ceiling.

“Har-Professor Potter-what are you going to  _ do _ about it?”

“I’m going to try my best to keep it closed, but  _ Merlin _ I shouldn’t be talking to my students about it!”

“We’re not your students!” That was the genius of Terry Boot, the only idiot Ravenclaw Harry had so far encountered. Harry managed a withering look at that one and felt a bit of the power he should have in the classroom return.

“Shut up, Boot,” Draco said. “Go on, Professor.”

Harry leaned on his desk, having finally made it through the crowd of teenagers. He ignored the fact that most of them were older than him. He felt about a hundred years old at this point.

“The thing is, you all know where I stand on this issue, and I’m not going to pretend that I’m going to sit back and let it happen, but equally I don’t want to make some comment an hour after we’ve just read something in the papers and then backtrack or whatever.

“It’s a matter of chance that we’re the ones in Hogwarts and they’re in Azkaban. Or, no, let’s not say that, let’s take winning as a matter of course. But, it’s certainly luck or  _ something _ , that I’m here, not dead, not imprisoned, and I promise you I have tried so  _ hard _ to do the right thing.”

“Harry--”

“No, I’m serious, everything has turned out well for me, but on the way there, in no particular order, I killed at least one, probably more, broke into Gringotts, impersonated Ministry officials, cast several Unforgivables, Merlin, there’s more, but that will do, I think. I cast Unforgivables and yet  _ I have been forgiven _ . And I think it was worth it, but by definition so does everyone who casts one, because you have to  _ mean _ them in a way you don’t for other spells.”

“Harry--”

“So you’re improving conditions in case you end up there one day?” Draco said over the top of Hermione who had her compassion face on.

“No, I’m just-- Look, if I was to be sentenced, I would stay in Azkaban until they reached a decision, regardless of whether I was innocent or guilty, and if you take the most minor of my offenses, which would be …”

Harry looked to Hermione.

“Camping without permit?” she said feebly.

“Would that get me time?” Harry asked.

“Well, you could pay a fine … Except it wasn’t like a one-weekend thing, so it would be a very large sum of money, so if you couldn’t afford it … Probably six months. No more than a year.”

Harry felt a stab of affection at Hermione so readily knowing everything he needed to know.

“Right. So that’s over-sentencing to me, but I can’t exactly go through every law and change them to what  _ I _ see as fair, right? I just have to say that no one deserves to get all their happiness sucked out, no matter what.”

 

“I don’t reckon I have much happiness anymore,” said Blaise Zabini. He was the only other Slytherin to come for eighth year, and Harry couldn’t figure out why he and Draco weren’t sticking together more.

“What’s your point?” Ernie asked. 

Blaise shrugged.

“Azkaban is cruel, but Lestrange killed my mum and Greyback killed my girlfriend, so maybe I’m okay with them living in a cruel place.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that. He wished people would stop bringing up Greyback. He knew that he couldn’t say that Greyback was the only person in the world who deserved Azkaban, because that would be ridiculous. 

“Look, Azkaban is not the only prison in the world. I’m not saying we can just solve crime through the power of love, but Azkaban has been around for hundreds of years, clearly fear of the place isn’t enough to stop the place from being full. To be honest, I’m okay with Greyback living in the cruelest place we have too, but I’m not okay with my being responsible for the cruelest place in the world. And if I can stop it and choose not to, I’m responsible, right?

“And speaking of werewolves, let’s look at Wolfsbane! Demand for it has gone up a tad in the last few years and there’s currently a grant available for potioneers to improve on the potion because it has some limitations, go on then Hermione, give me a limitation.”

 

The class reluctantly focused on Harry, but after twenty minutes of faking enthusiasm and having a much more hands on conversation about werewolves than he usually had in his class, he gave them quiet study time and escaped to his office for two minutes of deep breathing under the guise of collecting their homework. He hated seventh years. 


	19. Chapter 19

Harry was still weighing up his options at the end of the week. He’d written to Hagrid, wondering if he would testify on how horrible his weeks at Azkaban had been, knowing that the fact that he was pardoned gave the whole thing more weight, even if he could understand why Hagrid was imprisoned now that he’d grown up a bit. Several students came up to him about Azkaban, but unlike the seventh years, not all of them were opposed to the prison staying open. Of course, Harry wasn’t sure that all the seventh years were opposed to it after all, now he’d heard Zabini’s comments. 

He found himself paying attention to Zabini a bit more, wondering why he and Draco sat so far apart. Hermione sat with Pavarti every meal even though they had never been particularly close. Of course, part of that was Hermione trying to do good again. Pavarti seemed very lost without Lavender and Padma had taken a year off, so she really didn’t have much support. 

“And the thing is, I’m not good enough yet to tell if a tree could produce wand wood just by looking and bowtruckles give me the creeps, so I don’t know how much use I am,” Neville was saying. He had been taking the seventh years out into the Forbidden Forest so that they could identify plants in unexpected places, but it was giving him trouble.

“And Sprout’s had another spasm, so she’s back in Mungos and I can’t read her handwriting so I made an absolute arse of myself in front of the fourth years this afternoon.”

“Fourth years are awful,” Harry agreed. 

“Did you know that Jane’s now going with Sebastian?” Neville said, leaning close so the students closest to the high table couldn’t hear them gossiping.

“No!”

“He’s not good enough for her.”

“Ah, she’s one of my favourites.”

“You’re not supposed to have favourites,” Flitwick said from Harry’s other side. “But she’s one of mine too. Excellent at disarming.”

The dinner finished but Harry walked with Flitwick and Neville to the staffroom, telling Flitwick how Jane and her friends were trying to disarm Harry.

“It’s become a very popular spell, no idea why,” Flitwick said, his eyes sparkling. 

“Potter, Professor Potter!”

Harry turned and saw Blaise Zabini calling out to him.

“I better deal with this,” Harry said, reluctantly leaving the others to go to the Friday drinks without him. It was his week to patrol the corridors anyway, so he really couldn’t drink, but the night was always entertaining anyway. 

“How can I help you, Blaise?”

Blaise waited until there was no one in the corridor before replying.

“My mum had a seat on the Wizengamot,” he said. “And it’s passed to me. I don’t really bother with it, she never did either, but I still read all the letters, just in case. It’s useful to know things, you know?”

Harry nodded warily. Blaise produced a piece of parchment from his sleeve and handed it to Harry.

“I’m going on trial?” Harry asked. “How is it that you know before me?”

“Because this isn’t an actual summons, it’s just a notice of intention. If enough of us kicked up a fuss, it wouldn’t go through.”

“Will it go through?”

“The Wizengamot is weird, Potter. They don’t like to treat anyone different. It’s pretty rare they’ll interfere with a summons. I think it’s because they know that sometimes it’s better to just get the trial over with and then it’s resolved. Just because they won’t squash this, doesn’t mean they don’t all love you.”

Harry repressed the urge to give Blaise a display of colourful Muggle swearing. 

“I don’t suppose you have any advice?”

“You’ll probably get a letter next Friday. Use the time to prepare. Find out what they mean by ‘conspiring against the minister’ and get yourself a witness. Use that fuzzy friend of yours who seems to know the appropriate sentencing for everything off the top of her head. Use Draco, if you can. He doesn’t have any pull anymore, obviously, but if you can convince him to talk to you he’d be able to tell you who’s important. And their favourite chocolate, knowing him.” Blaise looked thoughtful for a moment. “I’m not sure how much luck you’ll have. He seems to go temporarily deaf whenever I try and talk to him. I suppose he can’t ignore a professor, though.”

“Thanks, Blaise. Really.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said in class the other day. You said you didn’t want to be responsible for the cruellest place, or something. I guess I thought it was all a bit more  _ passive _ than that. I suppose no one is really asking my opinion on whether it should stay open or not, but if they did … I wouldn’t want to say ‘no’, but I wouldn’t want to say ‘yes’, either. And you’re right, they chuck people in for camping in the wrong spot. Draco’s grandfather nearly did a stint over magic carpet registration. I don’t think they’ll put you there while you await your trial, but if you weren’t Harry Potter …”

Blaise trailed off with a sad smile. 

 

Harry didn’t go to the staff drinks. He went back to his office. Draco wasn’t there, was probably in the library under the assumption that Harry wouldn’t go back to his office until late, and of course Harry was supposed to be patrolling the corridors tonight. He tried to Floo Robin, but she wasn’t home. He tried to write a letter, but he didn’t know what to say. 

Hermione, he needed Hermione. He didn’t know how to get his coin to send a message just to her, and thought sending his Patronus into a potentially crowded area was a bit melodramatic, so he went to the library, hoping that even if she wasn’t there, Draco would be.

They both were there, sitting together and reading in silence. Every so often, Hermione would write something down. Harry watched them for a couple of minutes before he realised how creepy he must look to everyone else. He felt a pang of affection seeing them getting along so well. He really hadn’t thought it would be possible, even though they had a surprising amount in common.

“Harry!” Hermione said when he approached their table. “Aren’t you on patrol tonight?”

“Yeah, but not for an hour. Mind if I sit?”

“The worst part about being friends with you, Granger, is that you’re way too friendly with the professors. Potter is fine, I suppose, but I draw the line at having tea with Trelawney.”

“You’re very funny, Draco,” Harry said dryly.

“Thanks, Professor.” 

Other couples called each other pet names, but Draco only called Harry ‘Professor’ when he wasn’t using his actual name. Neither of them wanted to slip up and say the wrong name in class. And Draco clearly got something out of it as well, saying it just as often in the bedroom as not.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione said suddenly. Up until that moment, neither of them had really looked up from their reading, but suddenly Harry found himself being stared at very intensely by both of them. 

Harry sat down and they leaned in, books forgotten. 

“Blaise Zabini just came up to me,” Draco made an odd noise in his throat. “And apparently I’m going on trial next week for conspiring against the Minister for Magic.”

“How does he know that?” Hermione asked warily.

“He inherited his mother’s Wizengamot seat.”

“Aren’t you an honorary Wizengamot member?”

“Somehow I don’t think they ask the defendants to sit on their own trial.”

“You’re being very quiet, Draco,” Hermione said.

“Just thinking,” he said. 

Harry put his hand on his knee under the table. 

“So, I’ve got a week before they tell me and then who knows how long before they actually have the trial. I reckon it all has to be related to the Azkaban stuff.”

“What Azkaban stuff?” Hermione asked sharply.

“Oh right, I haven’t seen you since … So, I heard a rumour that Azkaban was going to reopen and thought I’d have a chat with Shacklebolt about it.”

“Since when are you not on a first name basis with Kingsley?” Hermione asked.    
“He thought it was best, so people didn’t get the wrong idea over the summer. Anyway, he wouldn’t let me in to see him, so I thought if I had a bit of a flirt with his assistant she might be able to tell me what was going on.”

“You, flirting?”

“Hermione, if you keep interrupting me I’m never going to finish this story. Anyway, I took Robin to dinner and she said that Shacklebolt thought it was only the Dementors I was opposed to, and of course as we now know thanks to the bloody papers, they’ve figured out a way to safe-guard that. Anyway, as if not getting any warning and being turned away at the door wasn’t enough, I reckon they’ve forced Robin to tell that she talked to me and now I’m up on conspiracy charges.”

“Oh, Harry.”

“Any suggestions?” Harry asked, smiling weakly. 

“Yes, of course. Just let me do some research.” Hermione shut the book she was working on after carefully using her essay as a bookmark. 

Harry felt a stab of guilt. She really didn’t have time for another research project with her NEWTs approaching. She strode purposefully to the section on magical law. Harry turned to look at Draco. He was still touching his knee, but Draco wasn’t acknowledging it. Harry took his hand away to chew at his thumbnail and nudged Draco’s foot with his own.

“You okay?” Harry asked.

“Yeah. No. I guess I’m just thinking that I shouldn’t have encouraged you with Robin. And that you probably wouldn’t care about this if it weren’t me and my family who could end up there.”

“I only regret the Robin of it all because if I’m going to trial I can’t imagine how much worse it will be for her. I mean, people quite like me. I don’t think I’m in any real danger. You couldn’t have talked me out of it. And do you really think I’m so mean as to say that I don’t want my boyfriend’s family to go to prison but everyone else is fair game?”

Draco raised his eyebrow at Harry with an attempt at a smirk. He was smiling a bit too much for a proper smirk. Harry frowned in confusion, and then realised: he’d just called Draco his boyfriend. He hadn’t done that before. 

Harry blushed, but he didn’t take it back. Clearly, going off the way Draco was grinning as he closed up his books, he was allowed to say it. 


	20. Chapter 20

Harry, Draco and Hermione spent the next week in the library. Harry didn’t dare tell McGonagall in case she had an issue with Blaise’s lack of confidentiality, so he had to maintain his classwork as he did the extra research. He abandoned his usually hands-on approach for theory based lessons so he could mark homework and prepare for other classes at his desk while the students worked on their own studies independently. 

For two days he managed to get out of classes all together by getting Ron to come in as a guest speaker. He showed off the products he was making based on their adventures and Harry had to send one second year girl to the hospital wing because she fell into a swoon at the climax of Ron’s (rather dramatised) troll in the bathroom story. Harry filed that anecdote away for the Easter break when he could tell the Weasleys about the legions of fans that Ron was acquiring. It was a lot more amusing when it wasn’t happening to him. 

 

On Friday, the owl came.

Just as Hogwarts favoured barn owls, the Ministry had their own uniform postal service. The owl that delivered the summons was not a flesh and blood owl at all, but one made from intricately folded pieces of paper. It gazed at Harry with blank purple eyes as it perched on the breakfast table in front of him and waited for him to untie the letter from its foot. Once Harry’s hands were free, the owl burst into flames, leaving some sparse ash to float into Harry’s breakfast. 

“Was that one of the new Ministry owls?” Neville asked, brushing ash from the tablecloth. 

Harry grunted non-committedly. 

He stared at the letter in his hands. Though he had been thinking of little else during the past week, he was unprepared for the flood of betrayal he felt. He could feel Hermione staring at him from the Gryffindor table. He met her eyes for a moment and he could see her brow crinkle with worry even from so far away. 

Harry jumped when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. 

“Is something the matter?” McGonagall asked, in undertone. 

Harry tried to shrug his shoulders in a casual way, his eyes back on the letter. 

“I think you better come with me. What class have you got first up?”

“Er …” Harry’s mind had gone blank.

“You’ve third years, remember?” Neville said. 

“Er …”

“Eliot, you’re in Professor Potter’s third year defence class, aren’t you?” Neville said, calling to a tiny Slytherin boy. 

“Yup,” he said. “Sir,” he added, remembering himself.

“What did you study last class?”

“Hinkypunks, sir. Didn’t quite finish, Professor said we’d finish them up this morning.”

“Right. I’m sure I can handle that. You got this, headmistress?”

“Yes, thank you, Longbottom.”

 

Harry found himself sitting in McGonagall’s office in his usual squashy armchair gripping a mug of tea in one hand and the letter in the other. McGonagall tried to take the letter from his hand when she gave him his tea, but gave up when it looked like the letter might rip.

“What’s going on, Potter?” she said. She had forgone the usual delicate china in favour of some more weighty mugs, evidently determined to get as much tea in Harry as possible.

Harry opened the letter and read it quietly. It was everything he had suspected. He handed it to McGonagall and watched as she took it in. 

“You seemed to … know what it would say,” she said eventually.

“I hoped I was wrong.”

“Even so. Do you know what they mean by conspiracy?”

“After we talked, I went to see Shacklebolt, but they’d shut off my Floo access, which was a warning sign, in retrospect. Then he wouldn’t see me when I used the visitor’s entrance, so I got the information out of his assistant. I hope she’s not in trouble …”

“Potter, you have a good heart, but  _ really _ now is not the time to be worrying about other people.  _ You’re _ in trouble, in case you haven’t realised.”

“Yeah.”

“What do you need from me?”

“I don’t know, I need to ask Hermione.”

“Is she in class now?”

“Er …”

“Right, you can’t remember your own schedule under stress, why would you know Miss Granger’s? I assume she will be in the library if she’s not in class, let’s try there.”

McGonagall led Harry from her office, telling him to bring his mug along. When they arrived at the library, she banished it before Pince could complain. She shared a confidential smile with Harry as they made their way through the rows of books. 

“She was librarian while I was a student, too. Once Brian O’Connelly accidentally set fire to the fiction section when his wand malfunctioned and she banned all students from the library for a month. She would have banned them forever, but Professor Dippet did a bit of negotiating. She earns more than anyone else in the school and she doesn’t have to clear any purchases anymore, which is how we ended up with a fiction section that seems to be mostly trashy stories about Guinevere and her supposed love for Arthur, Lancelot, Merlin, and the whole court by the sounds of things.”

Harry looked at McGonagall incredulously. Since he had become staff, he had noticed that she was a bit of a gossip, especially during Friday night drinks. She saw his face and pressed her lips together in the way he now knew meant she was suppressing a smile and resumed her scanning of the library. 

Harry caught sight of Susan Bones on a table and walked over. 

“Hey Susan,” he said. “Do you know if Hermione has a class now?”

“Yeah, Ancient Runes,” she said, looking at him curiously. 

He flashed her a grin and walked back to McGonagall. 

“She’s in class,” he said. 

“This is hopeless, we can’t be disrupting classes all day and I really have a lot to be getting on with. Will you and Miss Granger meet me in my office after dinner? We can go through it all properly.”

Harry agreed and went back to his office to prepare for his next class. When he got there, he saw Blaise Zabini leaning against his desk, waiting for him.


	21. Chapter 21

“Hi Blaise,” Harry said. “Couldn’t wait another-” he checked his watch- “hour before class?”

“You said that if we were going to bring something controversial up, your office door is always open, that we should come to you in private first, rather than cause drama in class.”

“I did say that, yeah.” Harry rubbed the back of his neck and leaned against the back of an armchair. He was doing quite well at treating the students from the different houses equally, he thought, but as always, the returning seventh years were more complicated. He’d spent six years constantly making sure that the Slytherins in his year weren’t about to ambush him, and it was hard to break that habit. “What’s on your mind, Blaise?”

“Draco’s been avoiding me all year.”

“Ah, yeah … I was sorry to hear that. Were you close, before?”

Blaise cocked his head to one side. “ _ Intimately _ ,” he said, solemnly.

Harry forced his face into an expression of neutral surprise. As far as Blaise knew, he had never had cause to talk to Draco about things like that. And he certainly couldn’t look jealous. 

“It’s the strangest thing. At first, Draco was avoiding everyone, so that made sense. And I suppose I must have reminded him of past alliances, though my mother and I took no part in the war. Which she was punished for, because someone gave Bellatrix Lestrange the impression that she would be on the losing side. She did tend towards the kinds of circles that would encourage that opinion, I suppose. 

“But since Christmas he’s been talking in class, and then he started studying with Granger, and last week I saw him playing chess with Ernie  _ fucking _ Macmillan, but still he avoids me. And he avoids the dungeons in general, yes, but he sees me and he turns the other way and practically runs away.

“Now, you wouldn’t know this, but I have rather a gift, a party trick really. Some wizards are sensitive towards different kinds of energy. My mother is quite famous in some circles because she can sense attraction like other people sense smells. She always knows who to flirt with and which comments to make to which people to start scandal and trouble. I’m not my mother, Professor, but I do have my party trick.”

Blaise smiled at Harry, daring him to ask what the trick was.

“I don’t play games, Blaise. Either tell me or don’t.”

“Among other things, I can sense how long it’s been since someone last had a fuck.”

Harry tried for his polite surprised expression again, but his mind was racing. Even if that morning’s hand job in the shower didn’t count, he’d had sex with Draco last night.

“Now, I have a suspicion that Draco has found someone to shag, and doesn’t want me to know. People generally don’t stay away from me without reason.”

“Blaise, I know I’m your peer as well as your teacher, but I really can’t meet up with students to speculate about other student’s sex lives. Did you want me to talk to Draco for you?”

“Yes, that would be nice. Let him know that I know he’s screwing the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, so there’s no need to hide from me anymore.” 

Blaise gave Harry a polite smile and walked from his office before he had a chance to respond.

“Fuck,” Harry told the empty room.

 

Harry didn’t dare to pull Draco aside during the morning class, or to ask him to stay behind, but luckily for him, the class was right before lunch so Draco hung back as was his habit when he didn’t have another class to rush off to. 

When the classroom was clear, Draco approached Harry’s desk at the front of the class. 

“I can’t believe you gave us that much homework when I’m spending all my free time researching magical law for you. Was the letter you got this morning a summons?”

“Yeah it was, and McGonagall wants to have a meeting with me and Hermione after dinner to discuss it, so you better come too, but that’s not important right now,” Harry said.

“Not important? What-”

“Zabini came to my office today.”

Draco gave a soft cough. “What did he want?” he asked, his voice only slightly higher than usual.

“To tell me that he knows you’re-” Harry lowered his voice to a whisper, even though the room was empty- “ _ screwing the Defence teacher, so you might as well stop hiding _ .”

“Fuck,” Draco breathed.

“That was my thought too,” Harry said. “Apparently he has magic sex powers?”

“Please don’t call it that. He does not need to think any higher of himself than he already does.”

“What are we going to do?”

“He probably won’t say anything. He was always … discreet.”

“Is there anyway we can make ‘probably’ a bit more certain?”

“I’ll … talk with him. He came to see you, right? We didn’t read about it in the Prophet. He’s obviously …” Draco trailed off uncertainly.

Harry gave him a look of alarm. 

 

Draco sat next to Blaise at lunch but Harry was forced to sit at the high table so he had no idea what they were saying. Draco was all over-the-top gestures usually, but they sat with their heads close together, whispering. Harry reminded himself not to be jealous. It wasn’t just their history that gave him pause, it was Blaise’s good looks and worse, that magnetism he seemed to have that Harry thought might be another of his sex-powers. 

“Are you okay, Harry?” Neville asked him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t take the seventh years, they’re just too advanced for me. We didn’t even have Defence my seventh year.”

“No, that’s fine, they were fine.”   
“You don’t have to tell me what’s going on if you don’t want to.”

“I will, but not now. Not really the best place for a private chat. And I should probably do the talk with McGonagall tonight before I tell anyone else.”

“Alright, but you know you can count on me, right?”

Harry looked at Neville seriously. “Nev, you  _ know _ how much I count on you.” Harry tried to convey his appreciation for the department of mysteries, for Nagini, for looking after DA and indeed the school that last year, but also all the other times that Neville, despite feeling scared, had been brave for Harry at school. Neville was one of Harry’s favourite people. 

Neville blushed and went back to his sandwich. 

“What have you got now?” Harry asked.

“Double with the second years. Sprout just got a shipment of mandrakes that are starting to get too big for their pots. Pomfrey’s gonna have a fit, there’s always one that doesn’t put the earmuffs on properly.”

Harry shuddered. 

“You?”

“I have second years too, and then sixth. Second years are rough, they didn’t get a foundation last year so I’m trying to cram two years into one. McGonagall tells me I don’t have any harder a job than Lupin did trying to teach people who had been reading Lockhart books for a year rather than doing actual Defence, but sometimes I feel like we should just say last year didn’t count, have everyone repeat.”

“Ah, if we managed to pass our exams with a new teacher every year, each trying to outdo the other ones by being as disruptive as possible to our education, I reckon you can teach them properly while feeling a bit behind.”

“Maybe. Listen, if you can sneak away during your second half, would you come to my sixth years class? I’m starting them on mismatched duels next week and wanted to do a demonstration.”

“Can’t you get Hermione? I’m rubbish at duels.”

“You’re really not and yeah, I’ve got Hermione, and Ernie Macmillan, I want to duel the three of you.”

“Are you sure you want to do that today? Aren’t you a bit distracted?”

Harry grinned at Neville in a slightly alarming way. “Death Eaters don’t wait until you’re having a good day. Constant vigilance!”

 

Neville needn’t have worried. He did manage to sneak away from Greenhouse Three in time to get there for Harry’s sixth year class and found that many of the seventh years were gathered there as well and Harry was telling off some fourth years for skiving off their Potions class to come and watch the demonstration. Harry had no idea how they’d heard, and the fourth years refused to tell him how Eliot Gould listened in on his conversations in the Great Hall. 

Harry had just started his introduction when they heard Filch yelling at some students in the corridor who were evidently also trying to sneakily watch. 

“That’s it!” he said, and he opened the classroom door to address them as well as his class. “I’m not sure why this duel is so interesting to you lot, but I’m not going to get into trouble for distracting the whole school with it. Go back to class, five points off from Hufflepuff and Slytherin, and let everyone know that I’ll just do the duel in the half hour before dinner, so everyone can watch if that’s what they really want to do.”

The two first years scurried off before Filch could insist on a graver punishment. 

“Sorry, class. Nev, you may as well get back to the mandrakes.”

 

If the rumour had spread in the hour long period after lunch, it had reached everybody by the duel came around. McGonagall gave Harry a mildly disapproving look that told him she agreed with Neville that he probably shouldn’t be taking on three opponents when he wasn’t at his best, but she didn’t stop him as he set up the Great Hall to resemble the dueling club room that they had used in his second year, just with a larger stage to give the others more room.

Harry stood on the stage and addressed the crowd. It looked like the whole school had turned up, including the staff. Harry could see Pomfrey hovering in the background with her battle-healing kit and tried not to feel insulted.

“Right, so this demonstration is specifically for the sixth years, and I’ll remind you that you owe me fourteen inches on either working as a coven or against one by Wednesday. We’re not going to use any spells that might seriously injure, of course, but there is always risk, especially when multiple jinxes hit their target. We’re going to verbally cast so that you can follow a bit easier, but remember that non-verbal is always better for dueling.”

Harry motioned and Hermione, Ernie and Neville climbed onto the stage with him. 

“You won’t find many instances of this kind of thing in formal duels, but everyone on this stage has attacked and defended on unmatched sides during the war, so it does happen in a spontaneous real-world situation. Those wanting to be Aurors should know that they work in pairs at all times and rarely have a guarantee of how many wizards they’ll be matching.”

Despite saying that this wasn’t a formal duel, Harry still bowed and the others bowed back. It was their way of showing that the magic was beginning. Harry spared a quick grin for his other seventh years who were maintaining a solid Protego around the stage just in case one of their spells went for the crowd. 

Facing three opponents was difficult, but not impossible. What Harry needed to avoid was having them all cast at the same time. He counted down and cast Protego immediately, deflecting the three spells that rushed towards him. He shot a trip jinx at Neville, who was standing rather close to Ernie, managing to distract both of them before advancing on Hermione, casting as he walked. He deflected her stinging jinx and shot a tickling hex at her before ducking Ernie’s Bat Bogey hex. He cast a stunner from the ground and then a tap-dance jinx at Neville when Ernie fell.

Hermione conjured a flock of birds and directed them at Harry, who, forgetting the spell that would destroy them and not wanting to deflect them and have them scatter out of the direct line they were in, stunned each of them in a rapid fire movement. He hoped he would be forgiven for not saying Stupefy out loud after the first one; non-verbal magic was just so much faster. 

Hermione applied the counter-jinx to Neville and in a moment of uncharacteristic grace, Neville landed smoothly and shot an  _ Expelliarmus _ at Harry. Harry couldn’t help but grin as his wand was wrenched from his hand. Hermione caught it, and in the moment when she was distracted trying to catch his wand and Neville was distracted from his success, Harry caught Draco’s eye. Draco easily pulled his magic from the shield charm and threw his wand to Harry, who caught it with the confidence of a Seeker. He conjured a fountain of water to drop on Hermione’s head and caught Neville in a full body bind before either of them realised that he had another wand. 

Now it was just Hermione and Harry, and she didn’t dare break her focus from the duel to revive either of her teammates. She shot three stunners at him in quick succession, which he deflected easily. She threw up her own shield just in time to block another blast of water, but Harry directed the water into a vortex that streamed around her. She made a time-out gesture with her hands and Harry cancelled the magic, quickly applying a cushioning charm so that she landed gently. 

The crowd broke into applause, so Harry pulled Hermione to her feet to join him in a quick bow before countering Neville’s curse and reviving Ernie.

Hermione passed Harry his wand back and Harry threw Draco’s back to him, smiling as he caught it easily. The hawthorn wand had worked almost as well as Harry’s own.

McGonagall ushered the crowd back into the entrance hall so that she could restore the Great Hall back to its proper state for dinner and Harry was relieved when he was able to escape back to the high table and could stop answering the questions from the overly keen crowd. 

“D’you reckon there might be interest in a new duelling club, Professor?” Harry asked McGonagall cheekily.

“I think we may need to see how you go against Filius, Potter.”

Professor Flitwick nodded enthusiastically. “That adjusted  _ Aguamenti _ was very impressive, what made you think to use it that way?”

Harry chatted to Flitwick happily through dinner and lingered over dessert. He didn’t want to have to think about serious things again. Eventually, McGonagall’s patience ran out and she met Harry’s eye significantly as she walked from the hall with Hermione in tow. 

Harry sighed and grabbed Draco before following her. 


	22. Chapter 22

If McGonagall was surprised to see Draco at Harry’s heels when he entered her office, she didn’t show it. Perhaps Hermione had told her to expect him, or perhaps after seeing Draco help Harry in his duel she was somewhat prepared for their friendship.

She was sitting behind her desk, which Harry took to mean that she was approaching this in a business-like way, not as a personal interest, which would be tackled in her little lounge. He was glad to have her full attention, even though he still hadn’t really accepted what was happening to him. 

“So, what is the worst case scenario?” McGonagall asked. Harry felt an odd sense of deja vu to be on the opposite side of a desk with Hermione at his side and McGonagall fixing him with that piercing stare. He felt incredibly weirded out by how it was Draco at his other side rather than Ron. 

“Harry going to the prison that he tried to shut down would be pretty bad,” Draco said.

“Yes. Though I was hoping for a more legal viewpoint,” McGonagall said. 

“Well, conspiracy  _ can _ have life sentences, but he isn’t going to get that from going on a date. Especially given who he is. But I’m more worried that Shacklebolt is going to use this as an excuse to slam Harry with all the other charges that he’s technically guilty of,” Hermione said. 

“I’m sorry, what else have I done?”

“Well, you were cleared of all charges when you were fifteen, so I think we don’t bother about the things Dumbledore let you get away with before then. Working backwards, there’s obviously this new conspiracy charge. Then, of course, the murder of Voldemort, though as you used  _ Expelliarmus _ you really can’t be prosecuted for that, even if you had a fairly good idea that it would cause Voldemort’s spell to rebound. There’s resurrecting the dead, though that law applies to Inferi, not to ghosts or shades, and you didn’t use any dark magic to bring yourself back, so again, no grounds. You used  _ Crucio _ on Carrow, though all the other duelling was probably fine at the Battle. You broke curfew, and then broke into Hogwarts, though both those were only illegal because of the Death Eaters, so we’ll ignore them. You broke into Gringotts, used  _ Imperius _ on a goblin, stole from a private vault, damaged the bank considerably and then set a Ukranian Ironbelly free into Britain. Though, that’s all goblin stuff. Have they approached you?”

“To be honest, I’ve been avoiding Gringotts since the war.”

“That … might be for the best. We’ll deal with one thing at a time. Before that … um, nothing illegal at Malfoy manor, I don’t think, unless you remember something, Draco?”

“He stole my wand, but I think I’d need to want to press charges for that to matter, and I don’t.”

“Was it your wand he used in the duel before, Mr Malfoy?” McGonagall asked.

“Ah, yes, I got a bit attached. Good for the demonstration though, don’t you think?” Harry said, feeling a bit embarrassed. He’d been pleased at the time, thinking of using it to teach his sixth years about having a partner with a compatible wand, but it  _ was _ a fairly intimate thing to do. Sometimes at night, Harry would grab the first wand he saw for whatever small spell he needed, and sometimes that was Draco’s, but Harry didn’t think he’d even seen married couples be so casual about wand ownership. Most married couples didn’t win their partner’s wand from them in a combat situation though.

“Right,” Hermione continued. “Then before that we were camping without permit and using unauthorised protective charms, which usually require registration. And before that I blew up an Erumpent horn, though that can’t affect you and  _ really _ who has an Erumpent horn just lying around waiting to be blown up. Before that was Godric’s Hollow, did you do anything illegal there?”

“Technically we didn’t have the real Bathilda’s permission to go in her home?”

“Oh, and destruction of property when you were dealing with the snake. And using polyjuice, but we did that a lot, so I don’t know whether to put that there or not. Um, before that … Merlin, before that all we were doing was camping. I suppose petty theft, but we did pay, even if we didn’t give it to the people directly. Oh, no, sorry, we broke into the Ministry, more polyjuice, impersonating Ministry officials, we set convicted criminals and criminals awaiting prosecution free-”

“Hermione, their crime was being Muggle-born!”

“Even so. And then theft again, you stole the locket. Um, dueling and destruction of property in the Ministry. Which of course we did in fifth year as well, that was after the trial. Stalking Ministry officials in the lead up to all that, I suppose, though they weren’t aware so is it really harassment? Need to look that up. You own Grimmauld Place so nothing wrong with that. You did set your house elf on Dung, so anything Kreacher did was your responsibility. Which would be kidnapping and harassment. Before that, we Obliviated those Muggles and Death Eaters, though that’s just responsible wizarding during a period of time when the Ministry had fallen. You aided me in avoiding compulsory Muggle-born registration and Hogwarts attendance. Same with Ron and Hogwarts. You didn’t report the existence of Horcruxes or your connection with Voldemort to the Ministry. Dueling whilst flying is definitely illegal. Before that is all Hogwarts stuff, so I don’t think you’ll get in trouble for it.”   
“Not even for nearly killing me?” Draco asked. He didn’t sound judgemental, just curious. He’d been paying rapt attention while Hermione listed off the laws Harry had broken and Harry knew Draco was comparing them to the stories that Harry had told him this year. 

Harry still winced to hear him phrase it like that.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“You didn’t press charges at the time, so I don’t think so, but I’ll add it to the list, just in case. And I take it you’d tell them to dismiss it if they brought it up?”

“Of course, I forgave him ages ago.”

“I think that’s it, then.”

“Thank you, Miss Granger. So, apart from finding a defence and precedents for those, what else can we do?”

“I’ve been reading about Pensieves, they’re rare, but Hogwarts would have one, surely. It’d be even better than Veritaserum if Pot- Professor Potter could deposit some memories, then we wouldn’t have to rely on him making a good argument,” Draco said. 

“That’s true, you can tell when a Pensieve memory has been altered,” Harry said.

Draco raised his eyebrow at him, but didn’t comment on Harry talking of Pensieve memories as fact. 

“Do we want to all look at my memory beforehand, too? I don’t want to volunteer something and hex myself in the foot, you know?”

 

McGonagall summoned the Pensieve and placed it on her desk carefully. Harry drew his wand and placed it to his temple. He thought hard about Robin’s house, visualising picking her up and taking her to the restaurant. His wand seemed to help, made his memory clearer. He remembered talking about Azkaban and then changing the subject to his teaching afterwards. He pulled his wand away and gasped as the memory came away with it. Unlike when he had seen other people do this, he could see the events in the silvery substance. He dropped it into the Pensieve and watched as Robin’s face floated to the surface. 

“I can handle much worse than Shacklebolt,” she told them.

“I know,” Harry agreed. He stirred the liquid with his wand and it rearranged, showing Robin’s house from above. Assuming the others would follow his lead, he bowed until his nose touched the liquid, and entered his own memory.

It was unlike any of the previous times he had used the Pensieve. Those times had been like watching a movie, and this was too, but this time he could see himself going through actions he had already done. It was like using the Time Turner, except he couldn’t touch the past. Hermione, Draco and McGonagall joined him within moments of each other and they all watched memory-Harry wait for Robin.

“You clean up alright, Harry,” Hermione said. 

McGonagall pressed her lips together, definitely  _ not _ smiling at Hermione’s surprise.

Harry decided not to tell her that Draco had dressed him. 

They watched Robin exit and express her own surprise at Harry’s appearance and Hermione stifled a giggle. They followed, and Harry felt himself blushing as he listened to himself flirt with Robin, teasing her about Quidditch.

When memory-Harry pulled out Robin’s chair, McGonagall said, “You remind me very much of your father,” and Harry blushed even harder, remembering her story about his dad serenading her. 

Finally, they got on topic. 

“You could be a politician, you know. He’s right to be wary of you. You speak well,” Robin said.

“Shacklebolt’s scared you want his job?” Hermione asked. “Oh, it’s Fudge and Dumbledore all over again.”

“You want to be like Dumbledore,” Robin said and Harry smiled sadly.

They listened in silence as memory-Harry defended his position on Azkaban. They saw Robin change her mind. 

“She’s right,” Draco said. “You could be a politician.”

“Shall we change the subject?” Robin asked. 

“We’re not going to say anything else that’s relevant,” Harry said. He took Draco and Hermione by the elbow and looked to the roof, and under his control they exited the Pensieve. McGonagall managed on her own. 

“That was incredibly weird,” Draco said.

Harry refrained from mentioning that he was used to seeing a young, alarmingly attractive Tom Riddle in the Pensieve. He just nodded in agreement. Riddle had been able to lie and flirt his way into information as well. He had thought he was through comparing himself to Voldemort. 

They all took their seats again.

“She didn’t give you any information you couldn’t have gotten from the Prophet. Does that make a difference?” Draco asked.

“No,  _ trying  _ to get the information is the important bit, not the information itself,” Hermione said.

“But he didn’t even ask her for information. Could we maintain that he just wanted to have dinner with her?”

“And if they ask him under Veritaserum whether he’s attracted to her?”

Harry blushed. “Can we avoid Veritaserum if possible?” he asked.

“We must proceed as if we cannot avoid anything,” McGonagall said. “It can be … embarrassing, yes, but you don’t have any great scandal to avoid, do you?”

“No-o,” Harry said uncertainly. 

“I would suggest that you think about that question a bit harder. It’s late, we should pick this back up tomorrow. When’s the trial, Potter?”

“A month from Monday.”

“Well then, we have oodles of time. We’ll have to think of a way to best use that charm of yours. I had no idea you could be so … sneaky.”

“You’ve caught me sneaking around every year since we met,” Harry reminded her. 

McGonagall gave him a small, proud smile. 

 


	23. Chapter 23

Hermione went back to Harry’s office with him and Draco after they’d left McGonagall. 

“Any scandals you want to talk about, Harry?” she asked, pouring three glasses of Firewhiskey and joining Harry on the couch. 

“I don’t want to think about this as a scandal,” he said. 

“You’re an idiot,” Draco said gently. He squeezed Harry’s knee.

“Shall we list the reasons it  _ will _ be considered a scandal? No matter your continued denial of  _ everything _ ?” Hermione said, her voice getting a bit hysterical. “Number one, you’re Harry Potter, so everything’s a scandal; number two, he’s Draco Malfoy, ex-Death Eater and ex-rival; number three, he’s your student; number four, you’re both boys.”

“But we’re of age,” Harry said desperately. 

“You’re still in a position of power.”

“Are you trying to turn me on?” Draco said sarcastically. 

“You need to find out if you’re allowed to see him. Ask McGonagall tomorrow.”

“And if she says I’m not?”

“Then we deal with it! Harry, thinking you might get an answer you won’t like is no excuse not to ask the question! We don’t want to be ambushed!”

“What would you do, if she said you’re not?” Draco asked.

“I’d have to resign, wouldn’t I? Oh Merlin, I really like this job.”

“Well, you could finish with me,” Draco said quietly.

“No, I really couldn’t,” Harry said, meeting Draco’s calm gaze. “I’m obsessed, remember?”

“Granger, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Draco said, not looking away from Harry. “We’ll meet you in the library after breakfast.”

Hermione didn’t need to be told twice. 

 

The moment the door was closed, Draco climbed on Harry’s lap and kissed him passionately.

“You’re so stupid,” he whispered into Harry’s lips. “I fucking love you.”

Harry’s heart jumped in his chest. “I love you, too,” he said. He let Draco have control of their kiss, overwhelmed by a feeling of tightness in his chest. They hadn’t said those words before, he hadn’t thought about it too hard, but now that they were out, he was so glad, so filled with how true they were. Though, “I’d give up my career for you,” was basically saying the same thing, wasn’t it.

Draco urgently pulled Harry’s shirt off and resumed their kissing. “I love you,” he said wonderingly. “Fuck, why wasn’t I saying that again? I feel happy all the way down to my soul!”

Harry laughed as they undressed each other. They stood to get out of their pants and then Harry grabbed Draco by the waist and lifted him and Draco wrapped his legs around Harry’s hips. Harry carried Draco to their bed, kissing him as he walked slowly. When he reached the bed he gently laid Draco down, treating as if he was the most precious thing in the world. 

Harry pressed slow kisses to the arch of Draco’s foot, and then his ankle. He trailed kisses up Draco’s legs and dragged his hands down his chest. Draco moaned and squirmed against Harry’s touch and Harry just coaxed those movements upwards, relaxing into them. Usually he would slam Draco to the bed and hold him there, but at that moment, he felt the need to worship him.

Harry prepared Draco lovingly, slowly fucking him with his tongue and reducing Draco to a series of moans. He cast the now familiar spell wordlessly and wandlessly and eased his cock in, slowly, slowly. Draco lifted his hips to meet each of Harry’s thrusts. Harry tried to move slowly, but felt that frantic want that made him increase the tempo. Draco scratched at Harry’s shoulders, urging him deeper, faster.

“Harry,” he sighed. “Ah, fuck, please, Harry!”

Harry groaned as Draco’s legs gripped him even tighter and thrust faster. “Love you,” Harry said, “Oh, Draco, I love you.”

Draco moaned and Harry felt it when he came, his body clenching up in beautiful spasms and his legs first tensing, then relaxing against his back. Harry followed soon after with a final few, deliciously long thrusts. He disentangled himself and collapsed on the bed beside him, feeling very relaxed.

“You left our wands in the other room,” Draco complained, sounding breathless and not at all cross.

“Mmmm,” Harry said. “Accio wands!” The wands jumped to his hand and he passed them both to Draco.

“Show off,” he said. “You could have just cleaned me up yourself.”

“You’re better at it,” Harry said, rolling over to drag Draco into a cuddle. 

Draco held Harry’s arm around his waist and leaned back to kiss him.

“So, you’d choose me over your dream job,” Draco said.

“Yeah,” Harry sighed.

“You’re an idiot, you know.”

“How are you always so chatty after sex? I feel like my brain is mush.”

“I could always leave the school. It doesn’t have to be you that leaves if we’re really not allowed to do this.”

“You need your NEWTs.”

“I can go to Beauxbatons. Or study independently and just come in for the exams. It won’t be the same, and I probably would drop scores a bit without teachers and practice and all the rest of it, but I’m not going to fail. I’m rather clever.”

“I don’t want to run you out of the castle. You’re doing so much better.”

Draco snorted. “Oh yes, I forgot this all started as a balm for my mental health.”

“S’not a joke, Draco, you wouldn’t recognise you at the start of the year.”

“I know.” Draco squeezed Harry’s hand and Harry kissed him on the shoulder. “Even so, I’m basically me again, so I might as well go back out into the world, right?”

Harry made a grumbling noise. “I just don’t want to see you hide yourself away again. Won’t it be easier to graduate with everyone here and then you might be able to meet some of them every now and then?”

“Of course it would be  _ easier _ , but it also wouldn’t force you out of your job. You’re good at this. What else would you do, work for the Ministry? Sell pranks with your Weasleys? Vanquish Voldemorts on call?”

Harry gave Draco an encouraging kiss on the neck for being able to say ‘Voldemort’ without a single tremor. 

“I dunno, I’d think of something. Besides, I might be going to prison anyway, this is really putting the cart before the thestral, isn’t it?”

“You’re an idiot,” Draco said again, but he dropped it and they fell asleep soon after.

  
  



	24. Chapter 24

Harry woke up early on Saturday in order to plan more with McGonagall and the others. And then again on Sunday. McGonagall told him that he could start a duelling club after his trial if there was interest, but that until that moment they would need to focus. 

And then on Monday, she was flooded with so many requests for it she decided that it would be less bother for Harry to take the sessions, just once a week, than it would be to deal with disappointed students.

On Wednesday, Harry finally got the courage up to tell McGonagall about him and Draco and she was shocked into silence for a good five minutes before she told them that would be quite enough for the night.

On Thursday, she shouted herself hoarse at the pair of them and then at Hermione for knowing and for not telling her. Hermione, despite having lectured Harry in a markedly similar way just a few days prior, came to their defences with facts and statistics. She gave a long speech about how the rule against student-teacher relations was fairly recent and that since then there hadn’t been a single teacher younger than thirty and that therefore their situation was exceptional. 

“There certainly hasn’t been a recorded instance of a teacher being the same age as his students, nor of a teacher having prior relations with a student, from the time before he was teaching, unless you count parents and children, which you should, because surely that’s a deeper bond than a romance, especially one as new as this.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance that the two of you would consider ending this … romance?”

“No,” Harry said firmly. “Though, if you want me to resign …”

“I’d leave before Harry resigns,” Draco insisted over the top of Harry.

“No, we talked about this, you need to finish your schooling-”

“I’m not waking up in ten years to a resentful Harry Potter blaming me for taking away his dream job,” Draco retorted.

McGonagall held her hands up to stop them and Harry took a small step back from Draco, having not realised that they were getting quite close as they argued. Draco gave Harry a small smirk that, in combination with the argument, reminded Harry so forcefully of their schooldays that Harry suddenly wished they were back in his office, or anywhere that McGonagall  _ wasn’t _ . Instead he forced himself to focus.

“No one has to go anywhere at this stage. But I will need to do battle with the board over this one, so we can add that to the things we’re researching and defending. I’ll be meeting with them on Friday afternoon, so if you have any particularly useful sentiments for me before then, pass them on.”

“I feel that Potter should get some kind of special treatment,” Draco said. “Seeing as if it weren’t for him, Hogwarts would have been destroyed.”

“Thank you, Mr Malfoy.”

Harry wondered how much Draco would tease him if he insisted he call him Potter again the next time they had sex. Which would probably be as soon as Harry could sneak him away, after that display. He decided it was thoroughly worth a bit of teasing.

 

Apart from the constant meetings with McGonagall and Draco being friends with Blaise once more (resulting in rather a few more knowing looks than Harry wanted), the month before Harry’s trial was almost normal. The Governors put up a bit of a fuss at McGonagall’s meeting, but apparently she ended up using the “Harry Potter saved the school/world” line that Draco had been saying somewhat ironically, and that had shut them up. They considered coming out to The Prophet before the trial in order to have control over the news, but in the end decided that they would just be forthcoming but subdued about it, as if they didn’t mind if everyone knew but preferred to be discreet. 

“If they ask why you’re keeping it secret, I think it’s just best to say that you didn’t see that it was anybody’s business, and that the important people do know, your friends, McGonagall, the board. Pretend like you don’t see any reason for it to be scandalous,” Hermione advised after a Defence class. She’d hung back so that Harry could reverse the charm that Draco had used during their practice duel that had expanded her already bushy hair. Even she had admitted (although reluctantly) that it had been a clever way of distracting her from the rhythm of the duel as well as obscuring her vision. 

Harry held up a mirror and she nodded approvingly before escaping to her next class. After that display, Harry had had to end the class early, because Parvati was laughing in an entirely too infectious way as Hermione’s hair threatened to drown the classroom. Harry had half-heartedly taken two points from Gryffindor for it, but really had been glad to hear her laugh again. He ‘accidentally’ dropped a chocolate frog in her bag as she left, hoping she would forgive him for penalising the first display of joy from her in his class, or indeed that he’d seen from her all year. 

 

Before Harry knew it, it was the day of the trial. This time, Ginny came in to relieve his classes, and Harry knew that when he got back all his students would have bats exploding from their noses, but couldn’t worry too much about it. Draco dressed Harry for the trial, in the formal robes he had worn to all the funerals after the war, despite having forced Harry to buy himself more fashionable ones in the last few months. 

“We want them to remember what you were like then. The Wizengamot is full of people, and those people like you. Use that runner-up smile of yours.”

Harry tried to comb his hair, and Draco laughed when it didn’t work. Draco ruffled it artfully for him. “I already said you need to look like you. Embrace the mess!” he said. “In fact, if you wanted to fly to the Ministry, I think you look very sexy when you’ve just got off a broom.”

Harry ruffled Draco’s hair in retaliation. Draco didn’t even snap at him, and that’s when Harry realised that Draco was worried. 

“I’ll be fine,” he said cheerfully. He picked up the satchel that held all of Hermione’s notes and gave Draco a soft kiss before leaving. “I’ll see you tonight,” he promised. 

 

*

 

After breakfast, McGonagall and Harry walked out of the Hogwarts gate and Disapparated to Diagon Alley. They walked to the Ministry quietly. Now that it was time, they didn’t have too much to say. McGonagall looked just as tense as Harry felt. She hadn’t exactly expressed her feelings about it, but Harry got the sense that she felt particularly betrayed by Shacklebolt’s fast corruption into political stupidity. They used to work together all the time and Harry could only imagine how close you would get to someone sitting side by side on guard duty or trusting them to have your back as you entered risky situations. 

Harry caught a glimpse of the pair of them as they marched past reflective windows on their way to the visitor’s entrance and almost stopped in his tracks. He was transported back to that time he had been taken by Barty Crouch Jr and Dumbledore had burst through the door flanked by McGonagall and Snape. She looked just as fierce now as she did then, and Harry almost didn’t recognise himself. Draco had told him a million times that he only pissed him off so that he could then have sex with angry Harry, but Harry had always assumed this was just Draco pretending he didn’t do anything accidentally. But he looked just as dangerous as McGonagall. He looked like the kind of person who could have defeated the most dangerous wizard of their time. And it wasn’t just in Harry’s head. People were crossing the road to avoid them, to avoid a woman in her seventies and an 18-year-old man. Harry suddenly wasn’t sure if he liked this version of himself. He wished he didn’t have the rage that showed on his reflection’s face.

 

Harry wondered what kind of life he had that had lead him to find the dungeon room in the Ministry of Magic was so familiar to him. Despite feeling as if he knew the room intimately, he was every bit as uncomfortable as he had been on his previous visits. Harry looked around the room as he crossed to the chair and gave small smiles to a few witches and wizards he had met before, and then he was sitting. The chains didn’t bind him, at least.

“Harry Potter, you have been brought before the Council of Magical Law to answer charges relating to conspiracy against myself, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic, Order of Merlin first class.”

Shacklebolt’s voice was just as calm and reassuring as it had always been. Seeing him now, Harry found his anger evaporate. He looked thinner and older; he’d clearly been under a lot of stress, but he was still himself. He’d just been forced into a position of leadership before he was ready and had found himself surrounded, not by those who fought beside him for years as part of the Order, but by politicians, most of whom had been in power the last time Harry had been in this position. 

“The charges are as follows: that he did knowingly conspire with a Ministry employee to negate a confidential piece of legislation and force a vote of no confidence for the Minister for Magic.”

Shacklebolt listed the various pieces of law that this violated and Harry waited patiently for his turn. 

“Do you have anything to add to your testimony, Mr Potter?” Shacklebolt asked finally.

Harry smiled his Witch Weekly smile, just as Draco had asked him to, before he spoke.

“I feel terrible to have caused all this fuss,” Harry said. “I assume you’ve already heard from Robin?” Wizarding law prohibited the defendants from hearing what the witnesses said, or knowing what evidence was available unless it came up during the trial. 

“Miss Shaw provided testimony before you, yes,” Shacklebolt said.

“Alright. I brought a Pensieve, if you’d like to view my memories,” Harry offered.

“We don’t have all day. Are you willing to donate the memory to evidence?”

“Yes, absolutely. I did ask Robin out to dinner, and it was because I had been refused access to you, sir. I was worried because I’d heard a rumour at Hogwarts that you were considering reopening Azkaban, and I have very strong views that this should not happen. And then you didn’t want to see me, so I was even more worried, but Robin couldn’t talk to me when she should have been working, so I asked her out to dinner so that we could discuss it at what I thought was a more appropriate time. I didn’t want to interfere with her job, you see. And I defended my position on Azkaban and told her how much I wanted to tell you about it, but I assure you, I wasn’t conspiring to change the law with her. I hoped that I might be able to talk to you about it by convincing her that I’m not just a kid who played a part in the war, that I have a point and I want to fight for it.

“I certainly don’t want you out of office, sir. I have total faith in your ability to lead. I trust you entirely. But I disagree with you about Azkaban. I just wanted to express that.”

Shacklebolt considered Harry for a moment.

“You’ve brought a witness,” he said.

“Headmistress Minerva Isobel McGonagall,” she announced, stepping forward from the doorway where she had conjured a chair for herself. “I’m more of a character witness, however, as I did not attend the dinner date with Mr Potter.”

Shacklebolt smiled and Harry thought some bit of communication passed between the two of them. 

“Do you have anything else to add, Mr Potter?”

“To be honest, sir, I am a bit confused as to why the Ministry would put me on trial for this, but not for any of the offenses that I committed during and prior to the war. I hope that by taking the position at Hogwarts I didn’t give anyone at the Ministry the impression that I was less approachable. I would have hoped that you could have asked me about this kind of thing rather than do it all in front of the full Wizengamot. And I regret it if I have given anyone reason to doubt my loyalty to you, sir. I’d be happy to donate memories or go under Veritaserum if that makes today any easier. You always have my cooperation.”

“Headmistress?”

“Mr Potter saved us all when he defeated Voldemort, but he is not the kind of wizard to bring that up. He’s also not the kind of wizard to sneak around behind the Minister’s back. He is a model employee, not only taking a full load of students in his first year, which is very rare, but also running a dueling club that has been excellent for confidence and is working towards completing his NEWTs so that he may have more than just the honorary Defence Against the Dark Arts NEWT he was presented for his actions during the war. He’s hard working and direct. I will  _ not _ be pleased if I have to try and replace him.”

Shacklebolt all but beamed at McGonagall then, and it took years off his face.

A woman who was sitting to Shacklebolt’s left spoke: “All those in favour of clearing the accused of all charges?”

Every hand went up. Harry closed his eyes in relief.

“And those in favour of conviction?”

No one moved. After a couple of beats, the witch lead the dungeon in a round of applause. 

“Mr Potter, you have our gratitude for your services during the war,” she said, her voice cutting clearly over the sound of people clapping. Harry smiled shyly and allowed McGonagall to lead him from the room.


	25. Chapter 25

It was almost lunchtime when Harry and McGonagall got back to Hogwarts. After the trial, Harry had shaken hands with most of the Wizengamot and the chatter had lasted as long as the trial itself. They all wanted him to know that they had never suspected him and he got so many invitations to various events that he had to insist they all owl him because he had no chance of remembering any of them. Only a few of them left without saying anything or even looking at him, and those were the ones that Harry committed to memory, determined to find out if one of them had been putting ideas into Shacklebolt’s head.

Hermione and Draco met them in the Entrance Hall. 

“How’d it go?” Hermione asked desperately. 

“Cleared of all charges,” Harry said.

Draco sighed dramatically.

“Quite,” McGonagall agreed. 

“What now?” Draco asked.

“Now, we eat lunch, and then you two go and catch up on your NEWT studies and I catch up on my marking, because this last month has been awful,” Harry said.

McGonagall led the way into the Great Hall.

“On the plus side, I think I know what I’m going to do when I graduate,” Hermione said. “The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is incredibly outdated. I’m going to bring it into the 20th century. I read a few books on Muggle law while I was researching your case, Harry, and I think we can learn a lot from them. Professor, if I wanted to study Muggle law, would the Ministry forge me some Muggle education records?”

Harry left Hermione to discuss her future with McGonagall and drifted to the Slytherin table with Draco.

“Did  _ we _ come up in your trial?” Draco asked softly, smoothing down the collar on Harry’s robes affectionately.

Harry leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Draco’s. “No,” he said. “And they didn’t bring up my other crimes either. As soon as I convinced Shacklebolt I wasn’t out to get him, it was like he just gave up on the whole thing. I think he’s had people whispering in his ear.” 

Draco nodded, nuzzling against Harry. Harry wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Draco might have a certain bravado, but Harry knew he was even more nervous about the trial than Harry himself.

There was a small squeak behind them and Harry looked over to Hermione, the source of the noise. Behind her, people had started entering the hall for lunch, but they had stopped to stare at Harry and Draco who were still standing rather too close for a professor and his student. Harry squeezed Draco quickly with the arm he had around him so he wouldn’t think Harry was ashamed of him and then stepped away slightly. Hermione joined them.

“Sit with me for lunch, Draco?” she suggested, her voice quite high and over-the-top casual.

Draco allowed himself to be dragged away and Harry took his seat at the high table. Neville sat next to him and then looked determinedly forwards.

“Hi, Neville,” Harry said, feeling much more amused than he probably would have done if this had happened before the trials. It all felt a bit typical to him, like of course he was going to have his one secret come out just when he thought he was in the clear.    
Neville made a squeaky noise instead of a greeting.

“Ooh,” Harry said. “Roast pork rolls, Nev, look! I wonder if the elves have any crackling we could pinch after lunch.”

Neville finally looked at him incredulously. “Are you just going to pretend I didn’t just see you  _ canoodling _ with Draco Malfoy?”

“Yeah, that was my plan. Why, did you want to talk about it or something?”

Neville shook his head violently and resumed staring out in front of him. 

 

*

 

Classes for the next week were torture. Harry and Draco were constant professionals, though Harry now allowed himself to sit with Draco in public when Hermione wasn’t there. This did not stop the constant rumours and funny looks they were getting. The seventh years were the fastest to get over it, having come to terms with Draco over the course of the year and also having the NEWTs, which were much more relevant than any romances that might be happening. But it wasn’t until a third year Slytherin student walked in on Neville making out with Susan Bones in Greenhouse Two that people really started to move on. Apparently, Harry had set some kind of precedent. 

 

Then that was the new gossip, and Harry was relieved to be able to focus on the increase of work that he had in the lead up to exams. The students might complain about all the homework they had to do, but they had an essay per class, as opposed to his fifteen to twenty essays per class. 

 

All in all, when Easter came around, it promised to be filled with catching up, and very little relaxing. 

Harry had almost forgotten the deal he had made between his family and Draco’s to have a big Easter together so that Draco and Narcissa could meet Teddy. 

“Was I supposed to be organising this?” Harry said, suddenly panicky. “Are we going to the Weasleys? Your place? I don’t even know which I’m hoping for, they both sound awful.”

“Calm down, Harry,” Draco said, which made Harry laugh because Draco was the one who was currently torturing their wardrobe looking for something to wear. Draco threw his wand into the mess of clothes he had been hovering and swore. “I have nothing to wear, do you realise this?”

“I cannot tell you how untrue that statement is,” Harry said. “Where’s my letter?”

 

It took them a shockingly long time before they were ready to go, partly because Harry had decided he should take his lesson planning binder just in case, but mostly because Draco had to be talked out of shrinking down their entire wardrobe and putting it in his pocket just in case he changed his mind about his outfit. 

They Apparated to Shell Cottage, as Harry had indeed discussed with Mrs Weasley and then immediately forgotten about. In his defence, most of the plans were made just after Christmas. Hermione ambushed them at the gate. 

“Harry, I want to re-submit my homework,” she said. “I made a mistake, in the paragraph about healing I said that--”

“Hermione, please, don’t do this to me,” Harry said. Somehow, he always ended up needing to do more research while grading Hermione’s homework than he did when planning the class that she was writing it for.

Harry caught sight of Ginny sitting nearby and all but ran to go see her before Hermione could make him think about work again. He heard Draco ask her about it anyway, and figured they could sort it out between them. 

“Hey,” he said. “You made captain yet?” 

Ginny grinned and told him about the game she had subbed in for last week. She showed him an impressive bruise on her arm.

“I’m keeping it,” she said proudly. “First pro-Quidditch injury.”

 

Harry had arrived quite early, wanting to introduce Draco as his boyfriend before the rest of the drama started. He’d already owled them all and dealt with their various reactions, so it wasn’t a surprise, but he had wanted to deal with one problem at a time. Draco had pumped Harry for information beforehand, so he was able to talk naturally about the right things with the right people. Harry thought that Draco would be a useful boyfriend to have when he was forced to go to the million Ministry things he had recently been invited to. 

 

To Harry’s surprise, Draco got on best with Mr Weasley. It turned out that he had a lot of clockwork things in his home, all magical, of course, but many had started Muggle and had charms imbued in them, and Draco had been fascinated with them as a child. Draco gave Harry quite a telling off when Arthur revealed that Harry had a magical motorcycle and Harry had forgotten to tell Draco about it. 

 

Narcissa and Andromeda arrived at precisely the same time, and Harry turned from his discussion with Ron about his latest invention to watch. Draco stood and approached the two women, and Harry and Ron both laughed when he kissed their hands formally. Harry had warned everyone not to mention Lucius, who was in Nurmengard. Harry was almost relieved that they wouldn’t have to deal with that particular tension, though he usually tried to be sorry that Draco’s father was in prison. At least Nurmengard wasn’t guarded by Dementors.

Harry scooped up Teddy from where he was playing with a magical train set that Arthur had made him and brought him over to the two women. 

“Ted, this is your great aunt Narcissa,” Harry told him. “Oh, that might be a bit tricky to say.”

“Cissy’s fine,” Andromeda said. Narcissa didn’t say anything, she was watching transfixed as Teddy’s hair changed. It had been orange before, and as Harry had held him it had gone black, but now that he was considering Narcissa and Draco, it was matching their platinum blond. Harry ruffled his hair affectionately and laughed as it grew under his fingers. It stayed blond, but it was now just as messy as his. 

“You’re clever,” Harry told him.

“Nice to meet you,” Narcissa said eventually. 

“Want to hold him?” Harry asked cheerfully. Draco shook his head behind his mother’s back, having already warned Harry at least fifty times that his mother liked the idea of children a lot more than she liked children themselves, but Narcissa held her arms out with something like confidence. Harry passed Teddy over without hesitation. The Weasleys were watching awkwardly behind them. 

“Good morning, Teddy,” Narcissa said softly. 

Teddy buried his face in Narcissa’s shoulder, playing at being shy. Of course, he was still happy to be held by the stranger. Teddy worked on mysterious logic. 

“I like trains,” he said a minute later, mumbling into Narcissa’s skin.

“Me too,” she said.

Teddy squirmed a bit and Narcissa looked at Harry for guidance. 

“He probably wants to get down.”

Narcissa placed Teddy gently on the ground and he ran unsteadily back to Arthur and the train set. Teddy made up for his coordination with a frightening amount of confidence. Harry had to look quite hard to see any trace of Lupin in him, but he supposed that it was normal for a kid to favour one parent over the other. When Narcissa didn’t follow, he looked back with confusion and before Harry knew it, Narcissa Malfoy was sitting on the grass playing with a train set with Teddy and Arthur, looking uncertain but happy. 

 

“I have literally never seen my mother sit on a surface without a silk cushion,” Draco said, watching with perhaps the most confusion. 

“You didn’t know her as a girl,” Andromeda said. 

“Andy!” Teddy called, and Andromeda joined her sister on the ground. 

“I’m baffled,” Draco told Harry. 

“I told you she’d love him. It’s impossible to resist Teddy Lupin.” 

 

The rest of the day passed in a blur. There were occasional moments of tension, but everyone was clearly trying so hard to get along that they avoided discussing anything that wasn’t related to Easter, Teddy and the various occupations of everyone. Anytime something awkward accidentally came up, there was the distraction of chocolate or Teddy to fall back on. 

Draco and Narcissa ended up staying for dinner as well as lunch, and seemed a bit reluctant to go at the end. After seeing how Draco greeted his mother, it was a bit of a shock when Narcissa hugged everyone goodbye warmly. 

“Baffled,” Draco mouthed as Harry hugged her. Harry kissed Draco on his cheek to say goodbye, much to Ron’s amusement. George then started kissing everyone on the cheek, and Draco muttered to Harry, “aren’t you glad you didn’t kiss me properly?” before Disapparating away before George could get to him. 

 

Harry sat with Ron and Hermione and drank a last glass of wine before bed. Hermione was in the middle, holding hands with Harry and leaning against Ron so they all had free hands for their glasses. 

“Malfoy isn’t even that bad,” Ron said, sounding a bit disappointed.

“I told you,” Hermione said.

Harry just grinned. All was well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I'm so sorry for ending on the words "all was well", but I also did a "Harry Potter and the ..." style title, so I thought I'd steer into it.  
> This has been my first fanfic in ages and it's been quite a strange experience to have so many people reading it and liking it. So thank you to everyone who has read, kudosed and commented, it has meant a lot to me. And if you liked it, please check out my other fics. There's loads more on the way.


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